A Pain in the Grass
Thomas Merton Brightman
(All rights reserved)

Zhivago branches beating window
Tears on every pane
Something always waiting in the weeds
Another pain in the grass to one…

For whom
So very much was unpredictable

For whom
Spontaneity consistently turned cruel

For whom
Play always ended with punishment

For whom
The face of change was violence

Forever
Scanning the horizon
Planning a comeback
Predicting an outcome
Regaining some control
Restoring sanity or safety
Looking for a path of retreat

Uproar always knocking at my door
Wished
for sanctuary
Serene spaces and places
No urgency or upset

What celebration
The day I came to laud dandelions
The beauty of their randomness
Their play and disrespect

No longer a pain in my grass