THE BROKEN BRANCH

Backwards, let my life rewind,

Until my life is here no more.

No memory, left, that I had lived

Or ever entered this life’s door.

Erase the words in poetry written

And the ones, in life, were spoken;

Release me, now, and I’ll return

To nothingness and be forgotten.

A tiny seed that Christ pre-knew

And sent me here to be a tree,

But I am barren and bare no fruit;

This broken branch I know as me.

Off the ground, please raise my limb

And gently secure it to the vine;

Remove the clouds that shadow me

And let the sun, on me, to shine.

The cry of Job is what I pray?

That I return back to the womb?

To be remembered never more,

Or visited within my tomb?

Nay, this cannot be, the words I say,

Or the things of which I pray,

For life is precious and so am I,

As well as words I so deny.

Within my writes, reveals my soul,

That let’s you see the barren tree.

A tiny blossom, I see appear;

Just a bud, I see as me,

And this write upon a scroll.