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POETISING WITH THE DIVINE

 

POEMS OF LIFE,

 

NATURE, LOVE, AND FAITH

 

Unlike a tree, our hope is not to sprout again upon the earth but in the holy prefecture of our Maker, for everything is not right with our world. There are wars in Iraq, Syria and Afghanistan, and it seems that Israel and Palestine will never achieve lasting peace. Hunger abounds in places like Niger and there is the horrific genocide in Sudan. Road rage, poverty and a reprehensible gang culture thrive on the home front. Solutions don’t appear to be near, but we must remain hopeful because hope stands tall.

 

For a tree there is hope,

if it be cut down, that it will sprout

again

 and that its tender shoots will not

cease.

Even though its roots grow old in the

earth,

and it stump dies in the dust,

yet at the first whiff of water it may

flourish again

and put forth branches like a young plant.