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 b etween 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 i n the groan and grunt of the cedars

Living high overhead.

-Audrey Camp, 2007-