A poem of sorts about fallen branches, feeling helpless and final hope.

Sometimes branches fall from the tree

And no one notices but me

A stick the size of a baseball bat

I might go a day and forget where it sat

Soon I retrieve the tree part that fell

To everyone else it seems all is well

Sometimes branches fall from the tree

And when you look up, it’s easy to see

The bush down below is a bit of a pain

Until a friend brings over a saw made of chain

The break in the sky has a story to tell

But to everyone else it seems all is well

Sometimes branches fall from the tree

A severance compared to a live amputee

An army unites to clean up the ground

The experts decide what remains must come down

Where a tree once stood, a stump now dwells

And to everyone else it seems all is well

Sometimes branches fall from the tree

The result of a trim by someone unseen

A pruning of rot to make the tree whole

Or the chopping of all to get to it’s soul

A shoot will arise to make it all well

And all are made well when they drink from his well

“Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.”

‭‭- John‬ ‭15‬:‭6‬ ‭

“For there is hope for a tree, if it is cut down, that it will sprout again and that its shoots will not cease. Though its root grows old in the earth and its stump dies in the ground, yet at the scent of water it will bud and put forth branches like a young plant.”

‭‭- Job‬ ‭14‬:‭7‬-‭9‬ ‭

“A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.”

‭‭- Isaiah‬ ‭11‬:‭1‬ ‭