The Tree

The flames whipped across
the wide open field. Dancing
and turning, waltzing away.
Through valley, over hill.
The tempo ever faster.
Headed my way.
Burning, Consuming shaft after shaft
of tall slender grass.
Those with feet ran.
Those with wings flew.
But I stood my ground, like him
before me stood. Rooted and deep
my toes clenched the earth; holding
on to rock and dirt.
"'cause that's who I am, and here's where
I'll stand."
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The flames flowed toward me
like an incoming tide of heat
and hatred and pain without care.
Burning, Consuming mile after mile
leaving nothing behind, but death
and darkness and gloom-filled despair.
And with a shell so thick from years
on this plane, buffeted by wind and sun and rain,
I thought to myself, "bark it is still bark.
Not stone or steel, and burn it will.
But here I stay, regardless of what comes,
I'll stand where I stand
'cause I am planted here still.
No feet for running,
no wings to fly;
just roots that run deep and leaves that stretch high.
I'll stay, I'll stay cause that's how I'm made."
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burned. consumed. by flame and fire.
But standing, standing here still. Waiting
for the wind and the sun and the rain
to tenderly buffet on bark and branch,
restoring my heart, my life, my love.
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Solid earth and bright sun,
my soft wind and my sweet rain.
My family are they, and they are my home
'cause I'm rooted in Him
and stretch toward her love.