The Good Gardener, A Prose Poem

by January 30, 2024 0 comments

Oh my God, the red light’s flashing on the belief panel. What’s going on? Ah, I see that a 21-year-old-woman from Abilene, Texas, has decided that God does not exist.
I am hurt. Few seem to know that the all-powerful divine one has feelings too. At 21, this lady’s no longer in her parent’s hands. I may not be able to sleep tonight. I better create a sleeping pill to knock me out so I get my eight hours.
I will give her till noon tomorrow to reconsider her position before I take action. She will need to accept my Glory and Beneficence. I, who can move stars and moons, not believed in? What will people think if I don’t punish her? My image will suffer.
Let’s see, if there’s no conversion by noon, I can have her crushed by a semi. A piano could fall on her as it’s being lowered from a second story window in downtown Abilene.
I need something where the blame won’t fall on me.
I can’t have churches emptying out. What will happen to church buildings and other infrastructure? Priests and preachers will lose jobs and starve. I must maintain the line. No belief in Me, no heaven for you. And she was such a sweet young lady. Her parents had her baptized and made sure she was in church every Sunday. She sang in the choir when she became a teenager.
It’s too bad, but I hold onto hope until tomorrow at noon.
Ah, but this is dangerous! I am a good gardener. I must nip the disease in its bud.

editors note:

Tough love! Spare the sheers and you spoil the rose. – mh clay

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