The Tree Of Life
Each of us has a leaf with our name on the tree of life
The Tree Of Life
No fruit I picked was made of gold
no flame nor crown, no tales retold
just quiet branches holding air
and words I found already there
Peace sat low, where roots ran deep
Truth leaned out from shadows steep
Hope was higher, out of reach
so I let Love begin to teach
A dove watched still, no song, no sound
two angels walked the hallowed ground
not asking why, not naming how
they only stood, and felt the now
I touched a leaf, I named it mine
not for worship, not for sign
but for the way it held the light
not shouting loud, just being right
And every fruit, in time, will fall
some to none, and some to all
but while they wait, they softly shine
not his, not theirs, this branch is mine
Just there to see, just there to know
in steady hush, Marie will grow
My Dad always told me we each have a leaf on the tree of life. It tells our birth, our story and our death. When the leaf falls they angels who sit by this tree, they collect it off the ground and take us home.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (3)
I liked the leaf metaphor of our life Marie. It's true, I believe.
wow,,v.good
This is a beautiful poem. That's such a nice story your dad used to tell you.