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This time every year I think of Him.
I yearn for when He calls for me
Once a little twig of the tamarind
tree all dried up with no leaves.
Rotten core, ready for forest floor.
He gave me water, I sprouted pores.

Sprig to branch then a thriving tree.
This time of year, they come for me.
Cut is severe but I feel no pain.
I've waited longing for His claim.
I hear His voice and am very thrilled.
Today, my destiny will be fulfilled.

'Forgive my heaviness,Your Grace.'
He smiled, lovingly I was embraced.
Then I felt through my fibrous shell,
The torture of the souls in Hell.

It was not I that was heavy, it was
the load of sins He had to carry.
I fell, He lifted and held me closer.
Then He carried me to Golgotha,
all the way upon His shoulders.

Spit, taunted they whipped His body.
Nailed, I held Him up in all His glory.
Crown of thorns, I stood with pride.
Nothing could topple the King and I.

'Forgive them for they know not what 
they do.'
Then I cried as He died for them 
and not for this piece of wood.
He said; 'You have earned the right,
people will bow before you as today,

you have become the Tree of Life.
  
T M Ioane

(For Easter Celebration)

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