Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Unsplash
The trees I loved when I was small
still stand though time reclaimed it all.
Their bark is cracked, their branches thin,
but memory still lives within.
They watched me fall, they watched me flee,
yet never stopped believing me.
They taught me truth through every ring:
that loss still grows, and growth still clings.
God carves His stories in our grain,
not in our ease, but through our pain.
And when I lay beneath their arms,
I felt forgiven by their charms.
The roots remembered not the fall,
but how I stood through it at all.




Comments (1)
This is so beautifully written, tender and wise. I love how you captured the idea of growth and forgiveness through the trees.