Living Tree Poetry

There is no feeling for which God
does not give permission.
No need that does not have room
for expression, expansion –
to uncoil,
lay down,
roll itself out as parchment spread,
to see what’s written.
To decipher in the shape of letters,
the curved arc of longing,
the long length of loss,
the tight rounding turns of disappointment.

And there is no feeling
for which God does not bring solace.
Unspoken, in the relief reserved
for each emergent need.
Does not answer,
in an antidote prepared,
as sweet medicine
to the thirsting tongue,
or a bandage firm,
holding fast the wounded part,
the bird in us that would fly out far,
free from need and loss.

And there is no visitation,
to which God does not bring gifts.
No opening of the door,
that does not with an answer
defy the things not understood,
the needs that circle in,
and spill as crumbs
to mar the table’s sheen.
And there is no winter
in which God still does not shine,
like the sun burnishing the counterpane,
or flowers blooming in a vase.

No antidote withheld.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
June 2020