Meek

a place soft and mild.

But then, the same wind began to wind

 all around and through

The creaking cedars,

Pushing and posturing above

My small comprehension of Nature

And God,

A big idea for a little girl

Alone in a forest.

Yet in my own long fingers,

The gentle manipulation of my own joints

I can hear that same creaking, 

Evidence of strong solids,

Bone and wood, and

Finding the joint, the junction,

the soft spot between the two,

I am cherishing the creak

that lets me know

Power is close.

The intangible shall inherit the earth,

For what seemed meek only yesterday

Is a hurricane of hope, a riptide of revelation.

I am in that forest finding

My own mortal limits and potential

mirrored in the groan and grunt of the cedars

Living high overhead.

-Audrey Camp, 2007-