Weeding means pulling out plants
that could actually feed someone–
chickweed, dandelions, plantain, others
that some consider food.
Today I pulled enough to feed an army,
but this garden will not feed armies, or war,
or hatred, killing and domination.
I would pull every plant, throw them on a fire
and watch them burn before I would feed a war
There stands my son in uniform,
a soldier for twenty years or more, a warrior.
My garden sends fruits and vegetables to his table.
My absolute stand is qualified by one
who stands beside me, quiet in his uniform,
unflinching in his duty while I try
to explain myself
and my garden.