Meek

The breeze was what moved me here,

To a wooded hillside, a forest patch,

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-

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About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Audrey Camp published on August 10, 2007 8:20 PM.

Reservations was the previous entry in this blog.

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