The Stump of Jesse

The Stump of Jesse

I cut that tree years ago, felled it to the ground, because I could

Though it was taller and stronger and had been there longer

Than I had.

I thought I had won, of course, but now there is this stump,

And I just can’t seem to kill it, I catch my blade on it, and it just

      Won’t stay dead.

Below the ground, I guess, what I cannot see, I have not even dented,

Since I find it blocking every hole I’d hope to dig, again it’s just there

         In my way.

And this invisible underground network, must keep fueling, every spring

This new sprig, this vine, shooting forth from the center, I must again

                 Cut it off.

Could this be how the Romans felt, and the scribes and the pharisees,

When they planted a tree on Calvary to kill this King of the Jews, this

 Stump of Jesse?