Christine Phillips Poet Narrative

In the Tree

I have been sitting down for hours staring at the ceiling
I have been sitting down for hours  contemplating this meaning
I tried to write this mystical scene  with a message that is profound
But something magnetic in the universe had me bound.
I could not turn my head  and my hands  felt like iron
and something sensual was dancing up and down my spine
forcing me to wine and dine and rekindle the hotline
I woke up exactly at three this morning and walk down the solitary street
Everything was silent except the sound of water beating against  the wall
Cars lined up on both sides of the street and lights filtered beneath
The Law and order man hid discreetly in the lane and came out
suddenly and drove down the street as if he was  playing a game
The entire community was asleep and my thoughts traveled  deep
I stood in front of the sleeping pond to say a prayer for those in a far away land.
But God closed my mouth and the words could not come out
places have  spiritual meaning and  they effect our emotions and
contain deep feelings 
The Holy Spirit was not there so I crossed the road
 and walked  slowly down the quiet street
I stood behind a familiar wall in the bush and waited
I waited patiently as if someone was really coming
The cars raced up and down the street
shining their bright light  in the bushes 
as if they were looking for me.
But I stood there quietly waiting 
Just as I began to pray the wind  landed in the trees
shaking the leaves on the tree it was a mystery
All the other trees stood quiet and watched  in awe 
They stared at the  tree I was standing under
The leaves rumbled and something  captivated me
spilling tears into my face and anointing me with grace
I began to pray and allow God to have his way
The strange wind smiled at me and left the tree
and slowly disappeared in the atmosphere
and left me standing there
She is risen

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