To the Man Driving By

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I pushed through.  Through flesh, blood, and water.  Came into this world full of blinding lights, opened my quivering lips, and emptied my lungs.  Tried to make my tiny voice heard.

Hush, hush little baby…Don’t say a word…”

Let me cry!

My heart was a fertile, fresh-plowed field.  Had never seen the man sowing seed. Had never had the raven, black and shiny, drop his seed of thorns and thistles.  My earth was rich and easily worked.  Full of nutrients and goodness put there by my Lord.  The sun shown bright, its heat soaking into my layers.  The rain quenched, just enough.  I was ready.

Man / Woman sow  but occasionally let a stray seed mix in with the good crop.  They work hard.  Care for tender plants.  A foot strays, accidentally.  Foliage crumples under the weight.

This heart wants to provide.  It wants to nourish.  The black bird comes with his friends.  They laugh and “Caw” as they drop one seed after another.  One, especially beautiful, winks with his onyx stone eye.  Man / Woman get their hoes. The sharp blade wacks at tender legs.  The shoots fall, but roots go deep.

Hear me cry.

The season of harvest is near.  The sun is merciless in its heat and pressure.  I crack and pull back from all roots, good and evil, that try to fill my heart.  I no longer give what I’ve got.  There’s not much left.  The environment was not kind to this field.  The tares and thorns are taking over.  Man / Woman can’t keep up.

You’ll drive by.  You’ll see my overgrown mess of a garden.  You’ll think of how I used to be and wonder what happened.  See the black birds in the trees on the borders of my patch of soil?  Hear their cry?  They are really laughing.  They think they’ve won.

Please, stop your truck.  Get a tractor.  Plow me under.  Light a fire.  Burn it all and give me a fresh start.  Just a little love.  A little care.  A little protection.  Do you have what it takes to be a farmer?  If you do, I know I’ve got one good crop left in me.

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