The Master’s Hand

November 13, 2006 at 8:30 pm (Blue Kansas)

At the Abby I meet Sister Louisa
Who works in the gardens
Incredible gardens, flawless vegetables, unblemished fruit
Not a single weed or insect to be seen
It’s a bit uncanny
What do you use to keep everything so intact I ask
It is a secret she smiles
Over time I pry it out of her
The Master’s hand she says
That is what guides everything to perfection
With this she glances shyly towards the sky
I am sure the Master who guides souls
Has many means to His disposal I reply
But here in the garden you must do the tending
Am I to believe you attain such results with prayer alone?
She smiles
The Master’s hand touches everything she says
I look over the neat rows of unnatural perfection
Everything precisely, abundantly alike
I become concerned
If we were to be touched like this garden…
I feel a sharp pain in my heart
I look at the rich dark soil
Suddenly it comes to me

Show me this hand, where have you buried it?
She looks at me coldly and turns away

I leave quickly
Perhaps I have misunderstood
Perhaps I haven’t

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