Enough

by Michelle Wiegers

Working in my garden, or rather

what could become a fruitful

plot of harvest next year,

I dig into the hard root-infested ground,

hitting rock after rock.

My spade clinks loudly.

As sweat swells, stinging my eyes,

I stoop to pick up something

sparkling in the sunlight.

Turning it over in my hand,

this seemingly insignificant stone

somehow feels like a part of me.

Lost in the midst of dirt and roots,

covered over by years of weeds,

pushed down deep into forgotten.

Persevering in the dirt,

I scan for the broken

you left behind,

when I was never the right kind

of your acceptable.

I put each one into my pocket

with trust

that love will gather them into

more than enough.

(Originally appeared in Birchsong: Poetry Centered in Vermont, vol. 2)