Alone upon this barren hill stands
a tree in the wind.
Chosen by a power not his own stood
a man by the sea.
Bent by the forces against him leaned
over the treeless plain.
Lifted by the good news he preached
what will come to be.
Curled leaves by elegant fury swayed
in the tempest ring.
Humbled with clasped hands he prayed
over heaven’s three.
Holding fast with tangled roots standing
firm upon his labor.
Carry from simple grace our burden
high for all to see.
Waiting for the wind to subside.
Waiting for a new faith to rise