The Empty Lot
…for I am fearfully and wonderfully made…
So rare in this neighborhood.
Sandwiched between two homes
and bordered by thoroughfares.
Never weed-whacked, never planted,
no raise vegetable garden.
The rickety apple tree at its far end
bears no fruit.
But the robins roost in its crown,
and the crows meander quietly
through the fallow field.
I will not see my body as barren.
I rest my hand
over that empty place and think
about what is beyond my control, this piece of wild.
Not what I couldn’t be
but how I am made: beautiful.