Oh mighty oak how bold you stand.
stretching your limbs to bless this wondrous land.
Roots dug deep, branches like arms,
Leaves like hands, sanctuary to calm.
The oak invites sanctuary to rest and to think.
We know that many men have passed this way
within this tree their spirits are here
to share with us today.
Children sometimes come to play.
tie a swing onto a branch,
or dream of their future
to idle a summer away.
Come back here often with friends, with lovers,
as mothers, as grandfathers to dream of more futures,
until our last days.
Believing the oak judges our every move.
answers our questions,
an oracle that speaks, our proof.
Each spring arms stretch wider
New green leaves are greener
Once again new sap runs through it veins,
Who rides by? Who stops to rest?
Who seeks judgement here;
seeking the key to turn the lock
of their prison door and be told it's ok, you are free?
And what if someone to be judged rides by,
First to hunt a deer,
Riding abreast their soul, galloping,
breaking it in, bringing it to calm, to release its mortal fear.
After a thoughtful, blessed, calm, loving summer,
a mighty wind blew night and day.
They call it fall.
It stole the Oak's leaves away.
It snapped its branches, tugged at its bark.
The Oak became tired now looking stark.
The waning Oak Tree breathed and tightly gripped the ground;
standing firm and stubborn, while other trees fell all around.
The wind also getting weary panted and whispered,
"How can you still be standing Oak?"
The Oak Tree took a breath and spoke
You may break a branch or two,
scare every leaf to fall away,
shake my trunk and make me sway.
My arms may seem weak.
My trunk start to creak.
But my roots are deep down where you can't see
the deepest part of me, the strongest part of me.
In spring those who come to rest here
ask me how much more of life can they endure.
I whisper to them how much I can endure.
What I have discovered, thanks to you,
makes me, the wise oak they say, stronger than I ever knew.
To those who rest here I request this
discover the joy of planting a tree.
Watch it rise, its slow I know.
Watch it rise, branches wanting to touch the skies,
then learning to point east, west, south and brave the north.
As it grows, so will your adoration of life,
your bigger warmer heart waxing with each spring.
Yes, there's nothing like planting a tree!
That joy is quite a thing, especially when it sings
to converse with the winds and birds.
Oh mighty oak, how bold you stand
for hundreds of years on this challenged land;
reminding us there is beauty, singing birds,
and your giving of shelter and shade.
I wish to be like an oak tree
planted by the rivers of the water of life,
abundant with fruit when it is in season
when leaves may fall knowing new buds are here too.
Proving that through whatever we do ... we shall prosper.
to read an explanation of this story poem please click here