Day Three in the series “Letters From The Village” in which I pen a poem of praise, writing as if in letter form to the bending bowing limbed beauties. The wood from which the cross was cut and hewn.
Bend, Bow and Bare
You teach us well the lessons
How to bend and bow
To stand and lift, turn toward the sacred
Stretched skyward in tall praise.
You show us well the lessons
Of how to bare a soul, strip down to simple naked frame
Stand stark, vulnerable,
No covering to hide the shame or blight
You live well this life of shedding, pruning back
Of cutting back dead wood, this vital piece, the
Part that leads to vibrant verdant growing, new life
I watch you walk through seasons dignified, majestic, stark to full
Simple beauty,
I stare, eyes fixed in silent solemn awe,
I gaze on your reverential stance displayed in vertical repose
Dear Ones who show us how to bend and sway rooted deep in soil of life
You lift up strong, your limbs in praise
And bear your radiant fruit in due time
You who holy held the son of God on wood hewn cross He bled
the sins of all were carried on His back while nailed, obedient, to you.
The pain, the nails
The perfect sacrifice.
And so we bow
and bend lower, lower still
lower day by day inside the shadow that you cast for us, recall His holy sacrifice
The bark, stump, root, limb, leaf, bud and branch
Metaphor for us,
We the people of the cross.
We bend, we bow
We break, we bare,
We look to wooden ways, the forest and the trees.
amen ,no alleluia’s at this time, stark worship on these days
Remembering
The stump, the root, the cross, a final sacrifice received
Bent humbly, praising God
You teach well these lessons
Of both the forest and the trees.
“I watch you walk through seasons dignified, majestic, stark to full. Simple beauty…solemn awe..” I may never look at a tree in the same old way again. Love this! Enjoying this series of letters. I wouldn’t think of writing to a tree, but why not? Especially with the spiritual depth you see and share.
What a Lenten gift, Elizabeth. This stripping down to shape and form, to the essence of what is, to the need of us — the ones who bend, bow, break, bare and so desperately need the One who died on the tree.