Weedy Eschatology By Mark D. Stucky

 

Image | Jan van Bizar

Weedy Eschatology 

The aging street mourns its faded splendor.

It remembers having red tulips and roses

in manicured, fertilized, emerald lawns

in community yards lining its borders.

But neighborhoods gradually decayed,

and nobody’s planted flowers in years.

The asphalt’s once-black fresh-tar patina

is now gray and chockfull of countless cracks.

 

In those rifts grow rows of feral weeds

that no person planted or wanted.

Rooted in forgotten fissures of the world,

weeds lift their hearts and heads toward the sky.

Survivors of severe environments,

baked by blazing sun, infrequently watered,

deprived of easy access to nourishing soil,

and squashed by droves of mutilating tires.

Yet, still the stalwart weeds survive,

paragons of beautiful resilience.

 

Glamorous, fragile flowers are transient.

Plain, ordinary weeds are forever.

For humans who feel our messy lives

are more like run-over weeds than roses,

weeds’ wild fortitude foreshadows

an unexpected, untamed eternity.

  

First published in The Way Back to Ourselves, 21 April 2024.

© Mark D. Stucky

Mark Stucky

Mark Stucky has degrees in religious studies and communications. After being a pastor, he became a technical and freelance writer for three decades. During his day job, he documented diverse technology products. In free time, he’s written articles, stories, and poems on many (usually spiritual) topics. For more writings, see cinemaspirit.info.

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