Bitter Fruit (ὁ πικρός καρπός)
I checked the garden today
Each step closer, I felt
The guilt of my neglect
(Weeds and grass flourished)
Tomatoes and peppers
Drooped in disregard
But I found two cucumbers
(Overgrown and faded)
One bite was perhaps too many
Their bitter taste tore
Through my tongue
And out of my mouth
Perhaps a religious person
Would eat the whole thing
To rightly feel their punishment
To reap what they’ve sown
But that cup has already
Been emptied for me
By one who never neglected
His beloved vineyard
He tended it as a father
Cleared the stones
Of a fertile hill
Built a watchtower
Yet the grapes were bitter
So he mashed them up
And made bitter wine
And filled a deadly cup
He cried for another way
But his will was the will of
His Father. So he drank
To the very dregs
He drank all my guilt
Every drop, until it killed him
Then he offered me a cup
Of wine. But when I drank it
I was alive with him
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A poem about my neglected garden and its bitter fruit. https://rmspangler.com/poem/bitter-fruit/
Posted by Heart in Pilgrimage on Sunday, August 16, 2020
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Photo by Thomas Verbruggen on Unsplash