The March 1997 On-Line Edition of

St George's News

Waterlooville's Parish Magazine

THE TREE

In the arid desert
'neath burning sun.
My life, it seems,
has just begun.

A daily life
of sleep and wake,
as seasons pass,
stood by this lake.

My branches stretch,
my roots grow deep.
Within my shade
some people sleep.

Some fishermen,
a teacher too
prayed and spoke
of life anew.

Thousands came,
His word had spread.
A boy supplied
some fish and bread.

A miracle
we all did see.
He fed them all
by Galilee.

They used a boat
the lake to cross,
a storm blew up
they thought they'd lost.

The Man arose
and spoke with Faith,
the storm died down.
They all were safe.

I do remember
what I saw
before being cut down
and put in store.

Three years passed by
while down I lay
'til a carpenter came
on one fine day.

He shaped by length
with skill and grace,
a cross piece fixed
and bound in place.

I was then borne
on one man's back
along the streets
midst baying pack.

Up on the hill
we made our way.
I'd little thought
for the part I'd play.

The man was stripped
and tied to me,
to be crucified
by Roman Decree.

Through hand and foot
they drove some nails.
No screams of pain,
no cries, no wails.

A memory
from mind far sunk
"This man had
slept against my trunk."

and now he draws
His last sweet breath.
I'm holding Him!
He slips to death!

His blood it trickles
down my grain
supplying moisture
once again.

But what a price
for life anew!
Whyfor His death?
For me? For you?

The Tree written by Gary Coy

Return to the March 1997 issue

return to Home page and main index


page last updated 26 FEBRUARY 1997