Tree Sorrow
Earth's trees are pruned; men came and left
upon their branches burning scars;
now their arms are piteous stubs
no longer reaching for the stars.
My heart is wounded watching them,
so public is their grief and loss,
their shame exposed, yet mute they stand:
I think of Jesus on the cross.
© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014
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