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                                    I

 

            Remaining Steadfast Warm

            In the Struggle’s Snow Storm

 

            Looking out up above          

            the snowy ground into

            a branched tree with spiny

            snow sprinkled leaves, there

            it was: a small reddish colored

            leaf; its dangling stem hanging

            from a small bent-down branch.

 

            As I sat there staring,

            my mind began imaging

            this leaf into a Calvary cross

            that gradually imaged into

            a hued hanging body.

 

            In awe, looking down onto the

            snowy ground, the revelation of the

            allegorical vision revealed its juxtaposed

            lesson: crucifixion and lynching trees—

            (Jesus and Simon of Cyrene)

 

            Indeed, from the first snatching of

            our ancestors from the womb of

            Mother Africa, to the snowy days

            of these treacherous times, we have

            known that our God is the God of the

            oppressed who gave us the life of his Son

            that we ever may know that he will always

            struggle with us on our freedom sojourn.

 

            Therefore, let us be ever mindful that in

            the mattering of our black lives, no matter

            what the weathering may be, we must make

            it plain that we will wholeheartedly remain on

            the battlefield of the Lord—struggling with

            his grace unto death—in the resurrection

            and holy renewal of our sacred liberation.

 

            Thus, let us be not dismayed in the present

            rainy, snowing, and freezing political

            discontent; rather let’s be forever mindful

            that like the settling of waters of Noah, the

            halting and melting is coming and that our

            present political disparities and black power

            outings will have their resurrection and today’s

            winter Babylon will soon meet its sated fate.

 

 

                                    II

 

            Hanging With The Tree Of Life

 

            As I looked out into the frigid air,

            once again my eyes focused on the

            palisade of trees quietly standing

            perpendicular to the frozen ground.

 

            There are some trees that are

            totally leafless; their frozen trunks and

            naked branches reflecting silhouettes

            of giant arboreal skeletons piercing

            the sky with waiting resurrection poses.

 

            Then there are others with spiny

            ice-laden leaves and frozen cones

            hanging from bending branches

            burdened with heavy ice cycles.

            Yet, their statuesque trunks—in stoic

            dignity—continue to arch skyward.

 

            My eyes filled with this silent still scene,

            caused my mind to struggle once more

            with keloid memories of lynching scenes;

            but my faith’s spirit turned my focus onto

            God’s tree of life and the fruit of the vine

            that hung from its sacred branch.

 

            Alas, the teasing chill that had come over

            my soul like cold snow has become the victim

            of the burning bush of warming hope—igniting

            renewed faith in the coming dissolution of the

            present winter’s pandemic discontent of political,

            economical, social, medical and climatic discord

            we now struggle—with God’s strength and refuge.

 

            So, blessed be these teaching trees I’ve been

            symbolically hanging out with; for they

            have graciously reminded me that indeed,

            we live and walk by faith, not by sight.
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