by Sharon Esther Lampert

My Father Labors In His Garden.
I am along side him. He is the only surviving member of his family as a result of the Holocaust. We are pulling out the weeds that have infiltrated the garden. The weeds are spreading out their roots and devouring the nutrients. The nutrients are needed by the flowers and vegetables that have begun to grow amidst the sandy earth and salty air that inhabit our home.

He Is Very Upset.
He is fiercely determined to rid himself of these weeds . . . with a vengeance. Hoping to make a wish, I tear one weed from the grass and begin to blow on it, spreading its spores around the garden. "Don't do that," he screams, "That will only intensify the problem. The spores plant themselves in the soil and produce more and more weeds and jeopardize all the other plants in the garden."

He Is Always Screaming.
This is the way he communicates. It is an endless rage. The scream enters into me in a place where his communication has meaning. He has transmitted a message to me. I understand.

He Continues To Scream.
"To remove a weed from the garden, you first plunge the knife into the soil surrounding the weed. Then position your hand firmly against the earth and rock the knife back and forth circling the weed to loosen the soil around its roots - until - the roots of the weed have nothing to adhere them to the earth."

He Adds, "You Must Be Strong."
I begin. He is alongside me. I grasp the knife. "It is a difficult task and you must not be afraid of the knife." he cautions. I plunge the knife into the soil . "Deeper," he says. "You must go deeper into the soil if you expect to reach the roots of the weed." "If you leave the roots of the weeds in the soil, then the time you have spent pulling out the weeds will be wasted. The roots will begin to grow and another weed will soon reappear."

He Warns Of Impending Doom.
"If you leave the roots of the weeds in the soil, then the time you have spent pulling out the weeds will be wasted. The roots will begin to grow and another weed will soon reappear."

He Has Experience.
I push the knife further into the ground, I am huffing and puffing. "Don't be scared of the knife." He hovers over me. "I'm not scared of the knife. I'm not strong enough to push it any further into the ground." I reply.

He Places His Hand Over Mine.
His hand is twice the size of mine, hardened and very coarse. I can see, hear and feel his strength and resiliency penetrate the ground as the knife quickly slides deep down into the earth. The weed has no future. He then twists and turns the knife around the roots keeping them intact so as not to break off their endings. The weed in its entirety is removed. My father's garden is free to flourish and has survived along side of my father's wishes. The message that safeguards Jewish life - the fertilization of the seeds of life - has been transmitted.

Visit Poetry Jew-ELS to find out more about the author of this poem, Sharon Esther Lampert, and read more of her work.

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