Was once a time when we were young,
Our starts were quick, our limbs grew strong.
We hung together filled with glee,
Flexing bough with gust or breeze.
Sheltered safe from ocean’s roar,
We dwelt far from its shore.

And then one day out from the sky,
From whence it came the ocean’s cry.
The breeze grew gust and gust grew strong,
From gentle breeze to thunderous roar,
Caught off guard our branches soared.
Soared and stretched
and ripped and retched,
Snapped and torn and yanked from ground,
Some carried away, never to be found.

We tried to keep our footing firm,
Desperation, terror churned.
Our roots clenched tight with every turn.
Huddled with our branches tight,
We clung to each other for dear life.

Then suddenly quiet it was gone,
Swift it came and it moved on.
And in that instant we were changed,
Youth was stripped, innocence ravaged.

Destruction looming large surround,
Our hearts were crushed, pieces on the ground.

But we rose proud, starting small
And once again we grew tall.
Most of us grew scarred and bent.
A few of us grew quite grotesque.

And those that clung with locked embrace
Grew woven, as wounds would not erase.

Thirty years have come and gone,
Remnants borne from that great storm.

But God in His great grace adorns
our scars, and places some would see
are hid by seasons’ finery.

And winter bears a rarity,
For now we do curve gracefully.
~ by Alexandria Sage.

“I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do.”
~ Willa Cather

“Magic lives in curves, not angles.” ~ Mason Cooley

“… and some fell down and some grew tall. And those surviving twenty winter thaws, have the sweetest fruit of all.” ~ lyrics to “Better Not To Know” by Amy Grant

“It is difficult to realize how great a part of all that is cheerful and delightful in the recollections of our own life is associated with trees.” ~Wilson Flagg
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am submitting this as part of what I think are my best poems from 2013 for NaPoWriMo 2014.

I followed Ming Thein’s recommendations for photography as described in his post. For several years I’ve taken photos of these trees and kept their story in the back of my mind. It’s about time it was told. I think it is easily said the story of trees can mimic the storms in our own lives. Perhaps this is why God surrounds us with so many—vivid reminders to “stay the storm”, stand together, lean on one another, hold one another. Just as trees find a means of survival through one another, should we do no less? Peace, Alexandria