Xapa to the World

Category: Nature Related

This is my Father’s world, I rest me in the thought of rocks and trees, of skies and seas, His hand the wonders wrought.

  • Poem: Beautiful Feet

    July 25th, 2005

    I’ve looked at the mountains many times
    And been captivated by their beauty.
    They stand majestic over all of creation,
    Looking down, casting a shadow on the land.

    My heart’s dream would be to climb
    And hang on the very top, shouting out –
    Shouting out God’s glory and praise to the world.
    No doubt my feet would be dirty and pained,

    But You’ve called them beautiful! These feet,
    They’ve carried me halfway around the world for You.
    They’ve walked through mud, dirt, filth, water,
    Anything You’ve placed before them.

    But the Message empowers the body
    And any pain I feel is only the aching in my heart
    Of wanting to climb that grandiose mountain.
    “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news.”

     – Sarah ><>

  • Poem: My Trees

    This poem…I work at a bank, right?  Right across from the bank I used to work at, there was an empty lot with some beautiful trees that grew in the plots between us and the lot.  They were so sweet.  Very soon, construction started up and the trees were one of the first things to come down.  It happened in the Spring, when the leaves were at their brightest green.  Birds were flying and flitting all around the branches.  After the trees were felled, I saw the birds float forlornly over the dying trees.  It was so sad to me.  And then, in true “Sarah” form, I began to introspect.  And this poem came out.  I hope you enjoy it.  I was under a lot of influence at the time by Robert Frost…so, you might notice some parallels in sound from him…I can’t help but mimic what I’m hearing.  🙂

    May 13th, 2005

    The tree that grows gracefully –
    Brown trunk, straight, solid
    With verdant, jagged leaves –
    Lightly tosses in the breeze
    Of this warm May jour.
    Through my window, beyond cars
    Choking the air, grabbing at the green
    From chutes overhead, I watch
    The trees shimmer in the sun.
    The greed of paper faces soon takes
    My mind and I look down at a tray of
    Keys with letters and another face of light.
    I glance up at the tall giant and smile
    At the secret of Life we both share.
    Some men out passed the rows of
    Cars, passed a silver grate of separation,
    Take plows and dig into a mound of earth.
    The trees stand tall, a tender show of
    A miracle abounding – as do I.
    And then they come, not as surveyers of
    Beauty and life, they simply do as they must.
    My heart betrays as I see their task.
    Though I know the necessity, my heart breaks
    As the testimony breaks simply. The giant
    Of green, my co-companion in glory, falls –
    Quickly, silently, through my triple-paned glass.
    How could they? How could they not
    See the green leaves, catching the sun
    And glowing bright? Could they see
    Them tremble at the break,
    Falling in a breathless heap? Or,
    Is this just my heart I see?
    This sight of splendor and craftsmanship,
    No more a tall display of a Maker’s care,
    Is this the tree or me I see?

    Sarah ><>

  • Poem: Accusation of Snow

    March 12th, 2005

    Snow, snow. Depressing snow.
    White death, I dub you.
    Will you not leave? Won’t you
    Leave us with your honor, with
    A remnant of your beauty, and
    Devotion towards you? No,
    No, you are remaining, trying to show
    Your soft and gentile side.
    Ah, but you lie. You, a coward
    Desiring not to go quietly in the night.
    Choosing not to surrender
    To peace and new sunrises.

     – Sarah ><>