#trees #mywork #writing
I wrote this a number of years ago. The inspiration for the poem was the precious golden resin from the myrrh tree that can only be obtained when it's wounded. Myrrh has a long and interesting history.

The Myrrh Tree

I was with you before this world was created.
I know The Beginning. This mortal life is The Middle.
I have been run over, shot down, cut to pieces, left for dead,
hospitalized and placed in the black abyss of a coma.
I have been abandoned, betrayed, forsaken, slandered, tortured,
robbed, left with nothing, starved and worked like a slave.
I have been a dog chained to a post. To wait and wait,
and then, to give up hope.
I have imprisoned myself with my faults and fears,
in a cell that isn't locked. I closed the door.
I am a tree that bends. I have been shaped by the
strong winds of unrelenting adversity.
I have not been uprooted and blown away. My roots are deep.
Please forgive me if I am odd. My heart remains tender.
Tender as a rose pedal, and I write upon it ~
‘I Am Your True Love.’