I Think that I Shall Never See
I tilled the ground with blade of hate
And fertilized the soil with pain,
Then sowed the seeds of discontent
And mocking, cursing, prayed for rain.
I watched until my withered plant,
Sustained so faithfully by me,
With blackened bark and loathsome leaf
Began to form into a tree.
Suspended from the topmost limb
At last, a single fruit there grew.
And bitter though it was, I ate,
Then offered half to guiltless you.
Though now between us stands a wall
To block my sight of you, I know
That you, like I, crouch in the dirt,
Impatient for a tree to grow.