Oh
Lord, make me as a tree.
Grant me tenacious roots
anchored deep in rich soil
so that I might grow straight and tall,
reaching upward to you, beneath a canopy of burnished sky.
Give me sheltering branches,
arms spread open and wide-
a place of repose for birds and squirrels,
a tender habitat in this beckoning wood.
Help me to detach
just as leaves trail away in the fall
spiraling gently to the earth
even at the height of their full glory.
A tree does not resist its own demise.
Teach me tolerance
for the (seemingly) endless winter cold.
As I stand shivering laden with snow and ice,
remind me of the warmth of the sun
which in the spring will reappear
to warm my soul
and coax forth new life
from what seems a dried and brittle form.
Trees know that appearances indeed, deceive.
Oh Lord, make me as a tree,
for trees are wise, and evolving,
sheltering and kind.
They sway with a light breeze
and bend with high winds.
A tree understands to bow rather than break.
And at the end of its days,
a blessed tree will fall into the forest,
be enfolded into the earth,
and Love will yield forth life
yet again.
Oh Lord- what could be better than to become as a tree?
MKA Nov, 2015