Harvest Time

In autumn, I came upon a garden of errant souls And saw several souls sequestered there. Some were well-known and some were fools, But others were only tarrying there. Though the sanguine souls were tall in bloom, there were stunted souls among them. I wondered why tall souls gave the short ones room; And, in the end, accepted them. Tears flowed from the stunted souls, And I cried along with them, Knowing their earthly sins had taken tolls. I marveled at this hospice garden’s lack of strife, Considering each soul’s long and hurtful history Of sins they committed during their earthly life Before they were planted in this secluded purgatory. Slowly, I removed my battle-worn defensive armor Once I realized this garden was a hallowed staging place Wherein souls were healing deep wounds to their Karma. As soon as healing started, souls grew tall to greet God’s grace. And now, He was gathering the tallest ones in His arms So that He could take them through His Pearly Gates.