New Poem: Parsnip in a Jar

Parsnip in a Jar

copyright 2010 Dona Nieto (La Tigresa)

she made soup

even tho her son had died

and there was no real reason to go on living

she made soup

even tho i had come to give her aid and comfort

she made soup

probably because the thought of me banging around in her kitchen

was more than she could bear

she made soup

because other wise the cold chicken in the 'fridge would go bad

and we were raised not to waste food

she made soup

even tho she had no appetite

she made soup

and whether out of habit

or from some atavistic vegetable imperative that could not be denied

she stuck the top of the parsnip that she had sliced off

into a shallow dish of water on the counter by the sink

and despite the headlines brooding darkly with ominous non-sequitors

"Does God Hate Haiti?"

the parsnip sprouted in a day

the parsnip shot out stringy filaments of roots that stretched and reached like skinny arms

now under water in a jar

the parsnip burst with greenness pushing upwards at the rate of inches every day

the parsnip ignored the headlines and the dark theologies

now, Buddhism is a godless religion

that gives some comfort to disillusioned intellectuals

and others angry at injustice here on earth

but the parsnip doesn't meditate

it doesn't act to relieve the suffering of others

it only grows

and keeps on growing

placid parsnip

green despite our tears

green

not in defiance of death

just growing wildly on the kitchen counter

when nothing else

counts