Soul Food August 2011

The Seven of Pentacles

The work of raising and teaching faith-filled Catholic children can seem overwhelming at times. Sometimes we struggle to see the fruits of our labor. As you read the poem below, think of the gardener as a catechist and the plants as our children. Jesus spoke of himself like this: “I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from me, you can do nothing.” John 15:5

The Seven of Pentacles

by Marge Piercy

Under a sky the color of pea soup
she is looking at her work growing away there
actively, thickly like grapevines or pole beans
as things grow in the real world, slowly enough.
If you tend them properly, if you mulch, if you water,
if you provide birds that eat insects a home and winter food,
if the sun shines and you pick off caterpillars,
if the praying mantis comes and the ladybugs and the bees,
then the plants flourish, but at their own internal clock.

Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grown underground.
You cannot tell always by looking what is happening.
More than half the tree is spread out in the soil under your feet.
Penetrate quietly as the earthworm that blows no trumpet.
Fight persistently as the creeper than brings down the tree.
Spread like the squash plant that overruns the garden.
Gnaw in the dark and use the sun to make sugar.

Live a life you can endure: reach out, keep reaching out.
This is how we are going to live for a long time: not always,
for every gardener knows that after the digging, after the planting,
after the long season of tending and growth, the harvest comes.

Soul Food August 2011

The Seven of Pentacles

The work of raising and teaching faith-filled Catholic children can seem overwhelming at times. Sometimes we struggle to see the fruits of our labor. As you read the poem below, think of the gardener as a catechist and the plants as our children. Jesus spoke of himself like this: “I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from me, you can do nothing.” John 15:5

The Seven of Pentacles

by Marge Piercy

Under a sky the color of pea soup
she is looking at her work growing away there
actively, thickly like grapevines or pole beans
as things grow in the real world, slowly enough.
If you tend them properly, if you mulch, if you water,
if you provide birds that eat insects a home and winter food,
if the sun shines and you pick off caterpillars,
if the praying mantis comes and the ladybugs and the bees,
then the plants flourish, but at their own internal clock.

Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grown underground.
You cannot tell always by looking what is happening.
More than half the tree is spread out in the soil under your feet.
Penetrate quietly as the earthworm that blows no trumpet.
Fight persistently as the creeper than brings down the tree.
Spread like the squash plant that overruns the garden.
Gnaw in the dark and use the sun to make sugar.

Live a life you can endure: reach out, keep reaching out.
This is how we are going to live for a long time: not always,
for every gardener knows that after the digging, after the planting,
after the long season of tending and growth, the harvest comes.

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