The ground was hard and cold
that afternoon the doctor called.
“The loss is now complete,” she said
(like she knew what loss was).
I looked down at the stony dirt,
trying so hard to form a thought.
What sane ideas could come to life, though,
here on this barren sod?
As heavy drops fell to the earth
turning it darker still,
my vision doubled, then grew dark:
no insight to His Will.
My arms grew cold and restless
their hope suspended, yet again.
I thought to cross them on my breasts,
but could not bear that pain.
Pondering this odd dilemma, then:
What to do with these hands?
I glanced again upon the ground
and tried to understand…
…how there could be a little stalk
where just now was pebbled ground.
Wary, I sought some other soul.
But there was none around.
Just me, then, and this growing stem
Still stretching, even now;
then sprouting leaves and branches
faster than Nature allowed.
Soon it had grown to just my height.
It seemed that all was done.
But then some little buds appeared
In hues of midday sun.
They grew as fast as had the tree
Abundant, full and bright.
Each fruit an awful sight.
I wondered what all this could mean,
staring up at the clouds.
“What’s with all these malformed lemons?”,
I asked of God aloud.
The answer came then, swift and sure
(like He was waiting there)
“You have so many lemons
because you’re called to share.
“True, they’re twisted, lumpy… sour.
But is that so important, though?”
He said, “My love, I wish you’d share them
with some soul who’s running low.”
So much pain, such grief, so long
uncertain what to do.
But now I know that their worth lies
in sharing them…
My prayer is that we’ll harvest soon
The sweet fruits that we’ve sown.
But if lemons are all you reap,
you’re not alone.
May 24, 2014 – RIP Peanut (#3)