A Walk In The Woods

The path is soft beneath my feet,
damp crush of pine needles,
wind moves gently through the branches,
a whisper I can't quite hear.

Why did you let it happen?

Sunlight spills through the trees,
its gentle hands offer warmth without holding,
it lights diverging paths, but chooses none.

A bird startles from the underbrush,
its wings break silence into song
as it rises, weightless, into the sky.

Why do good hearts break sometimes?

A fallen tree, hollowed by time,
moss-wrapped like a wound long healed.
I run my fingers over its bark,
rough with years, but still beautiful.

Did you see me that night, when I was small and afraid?

A young deer lifts its head in the clearing,
watchful, fearful, but unflinching,
as if it somehow knows I mean it no harm.

I walk on, the weight of old wounds
settling in my shadow,
but the stream keeps flowing,
leaves keep falling,

and though He says nothing,
I know He walks beside me.