I’ve been mowing my lawn for years.
How could I have not noticed that it was
nothing but weeds? White and green clover
and dandelions had taken over the yard.
I’ve passively witnessed the gentle slaying
by the weeds as they killed off every
blade of grass. It wasn’t an easy decision,
the decision to kill, but those weeds
would have to be killed. And I would
have to be the one to do it. I sprayed
poison all over the yard, watched
as those murderers died a slow death.
Capital punishment is a form of murder
too. The killer who kills the killer is still
just a killer. And I killed those weeds.
And one day I went outside and saw places
where the weeds had started to die.
No blood on my hands. Bald places
where weeds once lived, there was nothing.
I thought about stopping. It wasn’t too late.
I just wouldn’t spray again. But I wanted
lush grass. I wanted green grass.
I hefted the jug of poison and sprayed again.
Why such a drastic action after all these
years? I mean, for years, I’ve been content
to just go out there and mow down the weeds.
But I wanted better. Is that so terrible?
Am I wrong to want something pure?
I’ve been cutting weeds for three years;
that’s a long time. So why change now?
What’s the difference? The difference?
I know better now. I never wanted a yard
full of weeds, it just happened. That any
grass had grown in the bed of weeds, well,
it’s a miracle. I have to forge ahead.
I must kill these weeds. Sure, there will be
some sleepless nights and I might even
shed a few tears, but in the end, it’ll be
worth it because I’ll finally have my green
grass. I never wanted clover. I wanted grass.
And one day soon, I’ll have my grass.
Peace & Love,