I am an acorn

I try to climb the mighty oak tree,
whose branches part like a giant yawning in the morning air.
My gripless shoes slip and I scrape my knees,
leaving nothing but open wounds and a deflated heart.

As a little girl i’d cry and run to those I knew
could pick me up and carry me through,
but as I grew, I realised their arms were stunted and could only reach so far...

Now I wander through a world I don’t belong,
searching for a joy that circumstances only smash down,
leaving me broken, and bitter, again.

Further through the forest i’d creep,
exploring the challenges in the midst of woodland.
Oblivious, I’d ventured deep,
and lost myself in the dirt and the mire.

Afraid, I try to find that solid oak I felt drawn to in my early years.
I humble myself as pain escapes, releasing repentful tears,
I wipe the dust from my eyes to see that glory tree stamp down my worldly fears.

The father of that forest always remained,
roots planted firm in solid ground,
paths wound to him but I couldn’t handle the climb before...

But now he stands before me,
offering a comfort and safety far greater than anything I’ve ever experienced.
I am an acorn,
and part of that tree now remains in me.

On my own I’d only fall, scraping my knees again and again.
But the woodland dove can lift me up to the truth; he will never leave,
but prepare me with what i need to face false trees,
in this world, I don’t belong.