Furrow the field
Only what is heavy has value, Kundera wrote,
(speaking of compassion).
We're merely floating, without it -
disengaged ciphers, shirkers, lightweights.
The world is a dream, so says my Lord,
without substance or weight, one big zero
yet, we are instructed to labor mightily,
shoulder to the plow,
turn the other cheek, offering our coats as well as shirts.
Who will supply the wings to float us
above the grief and suffering?
I will give you rest, Jesus said. My burden is light.
The Christ comes (according to the scriptures)
not to lift our burdens but to show us how
to disperse the fear and pain,
to shrug our shoulders, drop the reins,
letting the team and the plow bear the weight
and furrow the field, pulling their own intrinsic way.
O child of God, let the yoke of the Christ reveal
the insubstantiality of this sad, illusory world.