My Garden Fork
At my age, turning over
garden soil with a five-tine
fork is arduous work,
forcing dry skin to break
into beads of sweat,
awakening reluctant muscles.
With every dig I strike
a hidden stone, disturbing
its complacency, every
fork full of earth exposing
squirming worms in
broken tunnel-homes,
as if my garden fork
had become a Day of Reckoning
for worms, uncovering
hidden lives. The exposure
pricked my conscience,
and I felt a need to apologize
for the unintended intrusion.
Resting, I thought:
How different in our case,
given the way we humans
have managed His earth.
Will His wrath be tinged
with remorse or mercy?
Or will millennia of suppressed
wrath justify His vengeance?
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2023
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