Twenty-one
My wife and I cared in our son and our lives,
rewarded in comfort from boy’s
heeding our guidance while manhood came full.
We long ago boxed his old toys.
(Old capper the bear, his swashbuckling friend,
together they sailed the high seas.
His red, sirened fire truck stopped many a flame.
His ‘racer’ bike often skinned knees.
The neighbour chum, either best friend or best foe,
who heard the thoughts we’d never known.
The girls who showed interest, though he preferred frogs
till returning interest had grown.
The times of the bullies, the times of the friends,
the grades unto grades of high school.
In pressure of peer groups he learned what to shun.
Our son matured far from a fool!
Through first shave and voice change becoming a man
a hug would embarrass his cheeks.
Now confident, well learned, and strong as an ox;
desirous to climb every peak.)
A reckoning followed, the day we foresaw
when he came to us standing tall.
“The world needs exploring,” said his baritone,
“My garden is sure not to fall.”
“You feel you are ready?” I questioned of him.
His answer was cause for a smile,
“You’ve both well instructed, my Special Plant blooms.
He’ll be with me each travelled mile.”
A generation gap – how could it exist?
when God gave us equality.
The time comes when He takes the job we were blessed.
He helped us face truth gracefully.
We prayed for his venture, exchanged hug and kiss,
then watched this man stride out the door.
She cried on my shoulder. I almost cried, too,
but God’s will be done evermore.
She busied the kitchen while I stuffed my pipe
and studied the mirror tiled wall.
No longer a young man, I still looked quite well
for fifty-six years overall.
Our world was not over because boy was gone.
We lived, so our work was not done
and Special Plant’s Light filled my garden and hers
to draw us in closer as one.
We lived as examples while plying our jobs,
but now there was more we could do.
We volunteered service, we bowled in a league,
we gave ourselves and flowers grew.
And each day was tasted so our lives were full.
The good and the bad helped us learn
while His gifts were many, like son’s wife to be
(I laughed when my wife’s ears had burned).
“A natural feeling to want him still ours,”
when we talked of her to be wife,
“but he is the Lord’s man and I bless his choice
for he has to live his own life.”
She repented acting like ‘mother-in-law’.
“The truth is, I like how she looks.
I felt there were none who would be good enough.
… I guess I’ve read too many books.”
We paid half the wedding, a modest affair,
young couple did not wish it long.
We met with her parents, their Special Plant bloomed,
and friendship between us grew strong.
When day ended, and she and I were back home
we talked – and we sighed – of that day.
“She looked very lovely.” “He stood quite a man.”
Of one accord, we knelt to pray.
We knew the boy’s garden was blessing to teach
and joy was ours seeing it bloom,
but moreso when thinking how she and I wed:
our parents were not in the room.
Our hearts held thanksgiving that we understood
the place of the three honoured best,
for autumn to autumn, the Lord had them called.
My parents, her father, to rest.
Twenty-two
We served, in our Father, the years that He gave
with Light of Plant Special to lead.
And silver expanded in hair of my head,
a silver crown bestowed by Seed.
For such was of God’s gift that life be sustained
to opportune garden improved,
and seeking improvement extended that life
for building a garden unmoved.
But life was not just to be counted in days
for time, alone, was not the all.
A garden might fulfill a century work
though our measurement found years small.
If we thought of time as a line which we drew,
then God is the paper it’s on.
His wisdom knows best the beginning and end,
to say when we’re here … and then gone.
Twenty-three
The doctor informed us that he could do naught
when cancer was found in my wife!
“A room in hospital is all I suggest
with medicine easing her life.”
We sombrely, silently packed up her things
(the backs of our throats burned so hot).
Then she slammed the suitcase, her tears resolute
and said, “Dammit, leave you I’ll not!
“The Lord said it’s over, be He gave you me
united till death do us part.
I’ve lived for Plant Special and learned of His ways.
To leave you would deny my heart.
My husband, I love you; and moreso each day.
Our lives saw our two grow to one,
and while there is life it is my choice to stay
until the time my life is done.
“I’ve no fear or worry, eternity’s mine
to behold the face of our King.
Rejoicing His presence in gladness to share
the glories our gardens shall sing.
But I still have this day, and what may be left.
To try and prolong on my own
would cheat our last moments and seek to delay
the call of our first Love to home.”
Our doctor could see her decision was made
so he gave prescription for pain,
“I understand reasons but call should you need.”
We walked home in the crying rain.
So many would visit to share of the love
which showed, there was no need to say.
And frequent our son brought his wife and three boys
(I marvelled how his hair showed grey).
Our moments were tender when we were alone,
when I urged her to stay in bed.
“Explain your intentions,” she coyly replied.
I, strutting like youth, kissed her head.
Our age weathered bodies made our movements slow,
but I loved her courage inside.
Her pain had increased to where all movement hurt
yet she stayed, with joy, at my side.
But often I wondered why she suffered so.
To Plant she had strove to be true.
Was God so dispassioned? Forgetting her now?
But then, of His reasons, I knew:
She called me to bedside, her voice cracked and weak
(the day which I dreaded was here!)
but when I looked on her I shocked at the glow
of garden bouqueting my dear!
And never had my eyes beheld such a sight
of blossoms perfuming the air.
Rewards of her purpose to stay wife to death,
and proof that Plant Special did care.
“My husband, it’s over. I am called to rest.
Our Lord will fill what you would miss.”
We touched aged fingers. I stroked through her hair.
She gave up the ghost ‘midst our kiss.
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I held her long moments. I could not let go.
I breathed whispered love in her ear.
Not wanting to cry and not wanting to not …
“My child, you have nothing to fear.”
… In startled amazement my eyes lifted up
and saw but ourselves there alone.
Did I really hear what I thought I had heard?
And did I then hear impressed on?,
“For her pain is over, and worry and care
are wisps of smoke dispersed by Love.”
Was grief taking my mind?! Then Softness assured
this wisdom had come from above.
The sureness, the certainty that she had rest
in His arms, eternal and new,
was smile to my tears as I lay her back down
releasing with blessing our two.
But still was the question, why did she die so,
her passage from this life so strained?
Impressed on me further was His faithful care
and reasons of Father explained:
my wife was a martyr for faith to the Bloom,
no less than beheaded or stoned
for man has been always the killer of men
and why creation always groaned.
By methods direct or the long way around
the thief seeks to kill, steal, destroy.
In self serving ways men agree with that plan
to quench others’ for their own joy.
Diseases are rampant, they travel the lands
and also the waters and air,
while men concur poisoning what was for life
so profits and ease outweigh care.
My love had ingested the death God allowed
without even knowing it done.
It serves testimony, as all His have done:
the guilty should tremble them gone!
The clouds rained their tears when we buried my wife,
wept for the world’s loss I believed;
but though many mourned her, the heaven’s rejoiced
for beautiful garden received.
Twenty-four
I found it hard coping with living alone
(it was for myself that I grieved).
Her works were now finished, her rest well deserved
in His care. I should feel relieved.
I finally asked the Plant to lead my days
(immediately flowers grew)
and though I was lonely, I was not alone.
That Jesus was with me I knew
for many came visits from strangers and friends:
the wisdom of silver hair sought.
I would entertain them with stories of Truth.
Experience salted the lot.
The young and the younger had asked for advice,
the gardening way from a pro;
and when there were questions that baffled my mind
my prayers in the Lord let me know.
I thanked God that I held great grandson in arms
though milk on my sweater was spit.
My heirs greatly flourished, Bloom Special in all.
Bright gathered the gardens so lit
as we feasted Christmas (unknown as my last)
to celebrate reason for Light.
I headed the table as elder of clan.
The closeness had set my soul right.
When the evening ended and children to bed
the women had talk over tea
while nursing some brandies the men gathered ‘round
intently to listen to me.
I knew not the reasons, yet words had ensued
relating my trials of youth.
In candid accounting weed garden was told.
My life was recounted in Truth.
“I have received mercy,” to their avid ears,
“I wish it not thought I am good.
We’ve all battled thorns at some point in our lives
but I wasted much ‘fore I would.
So many had suffered my thistle plant ways –
desirous of good, I was not –
and crimes I committed for financial gain,
unpunished more often than caught.
“Though now I am ancient, my youth saw me strong.
My prowess was feared on the street.
With right arm so fisted I took as I willed.
Not many could bring me defeat.
Yet, despite my power I was very weak,
though I could not admit my need.
The master of mayhem with such mighty arm!
could not forestall one measly weed.
“Then told of Seed Special from ancient, as I,
who pained from a crime I had done –
I toast to his garden.” And all drank with me.
“For I love that silver haired one.
“And humble Seed Special, a frail and small Seed,
had sprouted desire to learn.
Yet I mocked Its meekness – I felt strength was size –
from what I thought sham I had turned.
I stayed on the treadmill of no-place-to-go,
then wife became mine for the years.
Despite all our efforts to love life anew
out laughter had oft turned to tears.
“But only rock bottom had opened our eyes,
the loss of our things of the world.
Once humbled in sadness we sought for the Seed
and Power before us unfurled!
What happened amazed me for years of my sweat
could not let my garden stay clear.
Yet, in but an eye blink, this frail little Seed
accomplished the task as if mere.
“He’s been ever faithful at each twist and turn
in this path which I call my life.
He never forsook me though I often erred
and brought upon myself great strife.
The more that I sought Him, the more that I learned
and more that I saw things His way.
With deeper and closer our relationship
together we traveled each day.
“To know Him as personal: the greatest Gift!
worth more than world riches all told.
He knew all my evils, yet He still declared
my value surpassed all fine gold.
The moral, my children, raise your children well.
Plant Special, taught early, ensures
that always they have it, the Answer at hand
to fend off the pain of world lures.”
I left them to ponder, my bones needed sleep.
The truth they already could see:
my lush, coloured garden was His mercy gift.
The Lord saved a sinner like me!
Twenty-five
The springtime awakened and fresh was the air.
Creation rebloomed into life.
My evening meander, enjoying the park –
met weed gardens; one with a knife!
He looked to be leader, and wild were his eyes
as obvious under some drugs.
He barked out the orders to force a comply
from his troupe of wanna-be thugs.
So sad that his power they wanted to please
(approval is vital to boys).
Obedience to him was lift for themselves
with his nod to culminate joys.
They swaggered insistence while beating me up,
that my money and I should part.
I feared not, nor hated … not when I complied,
nor when razored edge pierced my heart.
Pain was but a moment and words mingled blood’
“Forgive them, my Father above.”
And they shocked, immobile, when I hit the ground
and told them, “Your gardens, God loves.”
The Light shone upon them, confusion rose up
with deeds and their lives showing plain.
They struggled denial and wrestled the truth
that their plans held no lasting gain.
At that very moment they each faced themselves.
From vileness, unable to hide
for in Truth there is only for or against.
Those children were choosing a side,
while I looked to heaven and felt growing calm,
the pain not as sharp as before,
when weed gardens argued. I struggled a smile
as one cried, “I’ll do this no more!”
He warmed me with his coat and cried out for help –
the one with the knife ran away.
“Forgive me, old timer!” he said in his tears,
“I’ll stay for the price I must pay.”
All pain went to pressure, but I heard and saw
while coughs racked my elderly frame.
His arms were around me to cradle my head.
I mumbled Plant Special by name.
“I hear you old timer, the Lord you do call.
What good is He to such as I?”
I weakened to grasp him, and spoke with a croak,
“He loves you! Don’t bid Him goodbye!”
“I know what you’re saying. I want to believe
in hope I would often deny,
but here come the police. I turn myself in.
… Just know that I’ll give Light a try.”
I saw police take him and heard as they said,
“For murder your life is as done!”
I coughed my last saying upon bubbled blood,
but they still heard, “He’s not the one.”
He smiled, sad but grateful, while taken away
(a garden assured did I see).
I sighed into blindness and could only hear
the medics attending to me.
The world slowly faded, reality gone
though I knew I existed yet.
A warmth had enwrapped me, I smelled baking bread
while past scenes my mind did beget.
I watched my whole lifetime, the scenes like a dream
yet so real I felt I could touch.
And great was the content when my Plant was known.
The growing of those days was much.
And then Light surrounded, discomfort was gone,
and Love was a physical thing!
(“My Lord Jesus, thank You! I …)
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