Poetry

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I am a branch who is connected
To the true Vine,
A planting of the Vinedresser,
Growing grapes that are really fine.
Of course, this is merely an
Assessment which is made by me alone,
A full-blown-assumption that will surely
Set the tone.
It shows a great big wrinkle
In the plans to rule my life,
And if I don't make some changes soon,
I'm bound to see some strife.

God's children are supposed to show
Nice, lush fruit upon the vine,
Grown to be a perfect
Vintage of new wine.
All too often we create problems
Due to our selfish pride;
Thinking we can get away with
Behaviors and attitudes,
Which we nurture deep inside.

God, in His divine wisdom,
Applies the tools and pain
For purging His children of sins' death-grip,
Which for a season, must remain.
When our eyes are opened to see
How sin has created
Misery and pain,
God will lighten the load upon our hearts
And set us free again.

In preparation for a bountiful harvest,
He makes a point of pruning us
When we are in our prime.
Preparing us to do good works
Of service,
Done at the perfect time.
We haven't done anything wrong,
But the Vinedresser knows our fate;
Should we be allowed to grow
At our own rate.
We'd be lanky, an unsupported
Branch hanging from the vine,
And unable to bear the load
Of the bounty of luscious fruit
Oh, so beautiful to behold.

Through the throbbing of my wounds,
I hear His voice so soft and clear,
Speaking a gentle reminder
Of His faithfulness so dear;
A commitment to a plentiful
Harvest in my life.

Abiding in the vine
Is what I'm striving to attain,
To take the time to know Him
And to worship at His feet.
Abundant life in all things
Comes from spending time alone
With the one who gave me life,
And made me whole.

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