What To Grow And What To Cut Poem by RIC BASTASA

the room is dark
light passes through a slit
of an old dilapidated wall
it is like a visitor that
comes uninvited but
i do not make any qualms
this house seems to make
a decision of its own
what to allow and what to
block

somehow thinking starts
here like a burning bush
where i, as prophet, takes
off my sandals of dust

when i close my eyes
just like the way you once
showed love to me
deep in the darkness of
our hearts
i see another world

uphill we climb the silence
and then at the top we finally
find ourselves looking
at different directions

and i do not make any qualms
at all
for like the old house this
new world too makes a decision
of its own
what to grow and what
to cut
what to throw away
and what to keep forever