Bend, Bow, and Bare “Letters From The Village” – Day 3

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.oak park tree my fave

trees in oak park

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

trees skyward

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.

big bent tree sepiatrees, moss, bluetree cowpraying praising tree

A Tree Can Show The Way, If We Look Her Way

With division, warring strife
So real and raw through all the world
Penetrating open cracks, the wounds
I want to graft as trees
A heart for sweet surrender,
A spirit found in peaceful living.
Oh Lord, let me go around
In love
Like barked beauty rooted fastened strong.
And leave room for harmony
Like the mighty ones
Whose roots
Hold fast, but trunks and limbs
Bow down in love.
And a tree can teach me this
Love and show me how to bend
Not break
If I only look her way.
Grafting peace
Cutting deep
Bending low in love.
Wrapping as the Cross
All the way around
The struggle and the pain
In a sweet embrace.

Joining Ann counting quiet gifts here, but on my writer’s facebook page moment by moment, this glorious Thanksgiving week.

And with Laura.