Surrounding ground scrubbed to dust.
Limbs and leaves torn from my trunk
Sad and broken my body appeared
This was not the future
It was the present
Though not as tall as I used to be,
Neither are the houses on this sacred ground.
Isn’t it curious how the foundations still exist?
And how my roots are firmly planted
Stretched but not severed.
A new shape is forged by the horrific storm
I (we) will never be the same.
Gasping at the view, it is difficult to believe
That any blessings are contained
Within this time of shock and grief.
It may take some time to see this truth
But they are here, even in this stark chaos of reality,
Unveiled by the daylight.
Time is passing, debris is removed.
The tools and sounds of recovery surround me.
Like the beating of a heart, the hammer pounds.
The saw’s shrill buzz expresses excitement.
Bulldozers gone, their work complete.
Plowing and scraping, recovering avenues and space.
Space for new things to happen – new things to grow.
I stand firm in this soil that was given,
My eyes have seen much
My body was ravaged.
But, still l stand.
New life is appearing. Fresh foliage is proof!
God is making all things new!
Breast Cancer Survivor
Spiritual Ministries Institute Board Member