Radiant Splendor, Gentle Surrender (Autumn #5)

This poem was written in 2011, when a tree seemed to speak of the hope and purpose found in complete surrender.

Imported from old computer 2817

BARRENNESS

It is autumn.

I stand tall and proud,

dressed with leaves ablaze

in a glorious array of golds and auburns.

 

It is autumn

and I delight in my purpose:

brightening the sky

and enchanting the earth

with my royal robes

of rich color and hue.

 

It is autumn

and I wave a colorful blessing

to those who walk below

while I gradually carpet

the path before them.

 

But suddenly the storms of life-

fierce, angry winds,

unexpected frosty snaps,

constant chilling breezes-

snatch most of my leaves

in fits of rage

before it is my time

to willingly surrender them.

 

I stand, barren and alone,

stripped and exposed,

while those around me-

still wearing their seasonal clothing-

are joining together

in a celebration of color.

Imported from old computer 2883

It is autumn.

But suddenly my purpose

and my glory have been lost

as I become

the mere and only signpost

of the impending winter.

 

Yet, I feel the gaze of a walker below.

Why does she pause

and pensively consider

my outstretched limbs,

gray and empty against the sky?

 

Could it be that she sees

a different beauty?

Could my leafless form

be speaking to her soul?

What is it that has her pondering?

 

It is autumn.

Perhaps these empty branches

reveal a new story:

one that speaks of

seasons,

surrender

and strength.

A story that affirms

this searching soul.

 

It is autumn.

My dignity has been stripped…

or perhaps- yes-

it has actually been exposed.

 

Yes, it is autumn

but I am living an early winter.

The beautiful display is gone.

Strength and integrity

are all that remain.

 

With nothing left to shed,

the storms and winds

can no longer buffet me,

but simply pass freely through

my unencumbered limbs.

 

With my mantle of color gone,

could my empty branches

and my barren limbs

show strength in their reach?

 

When there is nothing left,

could my empty branches

and my barren limbs

allow You to shine through more freely?