The Wound

A tender young tree grew by a beautiful stream

It would surely do quite well there it would seem.

The trunk grew straight and strong in the wind;

All its branches and leaves would wave and bend.

Then someone came walking by that bank

Wielding a sharp axe which he heavily sank

Into that young tree in all its splendor.

The axe stuck tight and the tree did render

Sap to run and bind and help heal that wound.

The tree grew as if the axe had only pruned.

It grew around the axe head ‘til all one could see…

The top of the axe sticking out of the tree.

The sharp blade was still right there inside;

Its wound, evidently, the tree couldn’t hide.

Through years of growing, try as it would,

It couldn’t grow normally like a young tree should.

It gave shade each Spring, pretty leaves each Fall;

Still something was not quite right there after all.

Though it began with a healthy, smooth trunk,

Now it was lumpy, crooked, and looked like junk.

The young girl grew in such an idyllic setting.

She would do well with the care she’d be getting.

She was loved, always taken to church;

She began to grow well just like that birch.

Something happened that hurt like that axe

Which stayed buried so deeply, the hidden facts;

‘Til it all came boiling to the surface.

She’d tried to heal herself just like that tree,

The axe still inside where healing should be.

She felt ‘lumpy’, ‘crooked’ and wanted to flee.

When, finally, she admitted the hurt was there,

She found God was waiting, her life to repair.

He didn’t change what happened in the past;

He gave perfect love, healing that will last.

She gave Him anger and frustration;

He gave her His peace, a new application

Of healing balm which only He can give.

She was sure then – His Grace always would live

Inside, helping forgive wrongs of the past

And live anew ‘cause His joy would really last!