Like a wounded dog about to die I went out alone
I climbed over the fence and walked to the tree
Looking up I knew, that what I had set out to do
Would be totally and unbelievably impossible
I would never be able to conquer the tree alone
On the other side of the fence was a chair where
I used to sit and ponder life, ironically it would serve
I pulled it over said fence and positioned it
Climbed up, reached up, scrambled up, clawed up
But could not get a grip, my clothes about to rip
A mortal thought scampered cross my mind
And I thought to myself, “I DO NOT want to die”
Angry tears streaked down my reddened cheeks
I knew I could not do it even before I began
Hopelessly defeated, I succumbed to the flood
I walked around to the other side and sat
In a heap beneath that hated tree in a nook
Provided by its trunk, it nearly enveloped me
Maddened by this fate, I pulled my knees up tight
And screeched out my rage in short bursts
Like when an injured rabbit squeals in pain
And all my hurt flowed unashamed
I thought, “How could He do this thing to me?”
I listened as the breeze rattled the tall grass
It raised the hair on my arms and chilled me
And I knew…God was not in the needles
Pricking my skin, or the clouds hanging overhead
He was not in the sting, or the hunger, or pain
But he was in that breeze, that stiff chilling breeze
Not whispering and caressing as I would have liked
But strong and firm with great purpose
It was a good breeze, a stiff breeze, a right breeze
But not a moment went by when I did not feel it
And not a second passed by when it wasn’t firm
