Christianity Oasis Forum

[Ann_is_Alive]

I am not able to stand.

My legs just hang there like branches on a tree do.

No wind to tell me,
step out of the tree, tear down the bark.

No wind to say to me,
the one, he who broke the branch,
he who tore the bark; trapped in his own roots.

The wind never had a chance to reach in,
wrap me in the blanket of unfailing justice.

My soul is being abused.

My lungs collapsing without being able to hear,
it is okay to breathe, begging the wind to say.

I am not able to smile.

Tears that swell in your throat.

Bleeding coming from your heart.

Eyes swollen shut, unable to view what the wind carries in,
no leaves blowing over, floating on my river’s edge.

Where was that clearing, that space of timeless joy?
No extra limbs where I knew I could find that wonder.

The wonder of walking into your shade.

Leaves though, they have failed me, denying my path.

There were no limbs; they had been beaten,
pulled until it was left. All that was left,
those twisted and warped, like dried away bones.

And the vine. The one entwined around those stumps,
the one choking out any chance of color,
buried beneath the breath of life.

The vine dangling inside, struggling to reach the branch.
What lies beneath could not be pulled out.

I am not able to speak.

The wind swept in, persecuting my throat, sticks scattered on the path.
Lying there naked, some broken, some unrecognizable.

Standing on my larynx, pushing its way through, leaving a taste of rage.
The trunk is too heavy for me to lift alone.

I am not able to find beauty.

I tried so to push away the dead pines,
only to have felt nothing but a sunken hole.

The rain never came my way, not even for a chance.
Droplet thought grasped, slipping through a thousand needles.

A chance of sweetness, something to taste on my tongue.

The rain never cleared hole. My feet were left bound.

Thunderstorms forgot to tell me, come out, it’s okay bathe in the sky tears.

It forgot to say to me, all that pours upon your head will rinse away what you store inside.

Thunderstorms cease, clouds clear, sun comes out.

Dancing leaves shining in the light, wind whispering through what is left of the vines that hang.
The prism of colors changing with every breeze that stands erect.

The roots are bound below, to deep to hear. Hearing what is trying to form.
Bound below in the grips of a hundred angry fists.

Digging down in the earth, seeds that were planted,
layers of soil, forgotten air trapped with each strangled root.

What is this standing with no abundant glory?

What was it that stretched out its arms, without a way to be lifted up?

This sun-dried soul, resting on its perch.

Those clenched fists beating, pounding, grinding a way to fight.
The thrashing of all that is scattered, the stolen color from those leaves.

Unclenching these fists, looking up through the branches.
Listening, hoping, praying.
The branches outstretched, reaching their way toward the sky.

Mending the cracks, tending to what had been sprained.

Blowing through the leaves, a song that settles in my heart.

Shredding off those layers, peeling the bark,
finally ready to take that step.

I can hear it now, whispering to its tune. A melody of praise.

Soaring gently down upon every root.
Dissipating my raw and broken pieces,
allowing the mist to melt through.

Oh yes, there are still those who ripped at the bark,
tearing down the liveliness, searing the soul, leaving a colorless stain.

With each unscented color, I was made to stand,
casting down the ugliness, in search for the wind to carry in.

Spreading each branch, having wings to be healed.
This moment in time, reaching for the chance to fly.

Hidden and blinded from the start. Making known my right.
For my blanket of justice is now my cover.

As I stand, able to talk to the wind, reminded with each breath I take,
the trapped air that once was, now ready to be released.

What forms next already has taken shape.

Floating down upon my open palm, vibrant is the color,
entering inside to bring forth the truth.

The truth of being able to climb out to where there was no branch.

Stepping out onto a wide open space, no longer struggling to reach.

And there I can feel forming within a long awaited smile,
ready to take me to the wonder of that timeless joy.

With each beat of my heart I hear what the wind has to say.
Lifting me up into those clouds, rising from the battle.

a song of praise remains,

Falling from those branches, colors leaping into my soul, blowing my way.

I am told to walk my path.

What lies on the ground have been jewels for me to find.


ty for listening

Ann

[Truesovereigncrown]

An epic poem Ann, something beautiful is emerging.
Like a butterfly from a chrysalis, or a phoenix rising from the ashes.
Thanks for sharing your talent.
God bless you.
Love in Jesus from Bro True.

[Ann_is_Alive]

awwww ty true

GBU bro.

Ann