A Garden Full of Weeds
Poem #3
The morning rises in my mind, it’s time.
Time to take a look at my insides,
The rows are growing tight.
I’m getting conflicting insights.
The gloves swallow my hands in protection.
Regeneration, I’m looking at my garden.
Renovation is an understatement.
It’s in desperate need of cultivation.
This newborn energizing is heaven-sent.
One glance tells me I’m being,
inundated in weeds,
there are too many bad seeds,
coming to fruition in me,
and now I see the difference.
Genesis, if I wish to see good things
taking root and flourishing,
It’s time to finish what I started,
and to take stock of what’s worthy of cherishing.
What do I care for, enough to do something differently?
I care for childishness, the nature in me bound to see everything,
positively, I wish to see the beauty and proper use in all things.
I tear away the useless dreams and allow the opposite to bleed into me.
The greed, the idea that I’m better for any reason, is out of season.
The conceit and deceit leading me to smell like skunk weed
is freed from the ground in me permanently…
Some things must be cut away to produce good fruit inside of me.
I thank the author of everything for offering me,
the wisdom to know the difference.
Between what serves me and breeds indifference in me…
There is nothing complimentary about complacency,
Take it all from me, burn the weeds and set the good seed,
On a pedestal within me… I long to see it prospering,
before the day I stop breathing.
Amen.