Monday, March 4, 2013

The Spirit is Not Willing

“My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,” he said to them. “Stay here and keep watch.”
Mark 14:34

They hauled my corpse home in a wheel-barrow, planted me
under rhododendrons. I slept heavy—scowled out
at the side-walkers: stroller-mothers and joggers.
Crows chased them off with havoc
screamed from over-hanging limbs,
swooping down in sneak attacks.

I slept-in: cold, unmoved, frozen;
patiently waiting for the earth to stop.
But the ground warmed, and I dreamed
a kaleidoscope—tossed and turned
while the azaleas raced the rhododendrons.

Soon they’ll be awful pastel-ed children
giggling and rifling through budding bushes
in search of plastic eggs housing candy cloaked in foil,

and I’ll reach for the snooze button.