ILL-FATED SEED

ILL-FATED SEED?!

To the bent, cursed tree it flies,

a raven, from the very pits of Hell.

Into his foul beak the seed he plies,

Later to the chosen ground it fell.

With it now, he rises into the night,

for the rank, hog-pen runoff a-spying.

The God-forsaken kernel fell from sight;

Into stench below; it was surely dying?

 

 

Into a tree, it slowly, but steadily grows.

But, with limbs all twisted and knotted,

good for nothing; for what who knows?

Its purpose? Its use? Felled and rotted?

Gathered there to roost, only vultures.

Taken to their nests, all manner of refuse.

All around, they added filth to the manure.

Never would this tree be of any good use?

Because of all this, it was ever left alone.

Never even fuel, and certainly not lumber.

Would its fate, or end, never be known?

Sapping the ground, its strength encumber.

Along came men, demanding posts, a pole.

Brutes, ill-tempered, brusque and cruel,

The hog pen tree, they chopped and stole.

Maybe for their campfire, they needed fuel.

Other trees, harvested from time to time.

Lumber for shelter, for a table, some planks.

In them, village children often would climb;

But, at it, they turned, sneering, “no thanks.”

Where was it going? What purpose to fulfill?

With axes, was chopped and then, roughly hewn.

Carried through the streets, then up a steep hill,

Nails driven in, a prisoner attached, now it is noon.

Who is this one? by all around, he is mocked!

And, all his friends turn away, even the Sun.

Darkness surrounded! what hour has clocked?

But some still look, and stammer, “He’s the One!”

How did I get here?  So, far from the forest green.

Nothing but a torture device, a cross for your Son!

How could this happen? Who could have forseen?

“God in heaven, do you know what you have done?”

Damned black bird, that planted me in the sewage,

Could you, did you have any idea of my ill-fated lot?

Was there an omen, or, some evil, dark-hearted sage,

That guided your selection and even my planted spot?

No!  that “ill-fated seed” grew into what He did foresee!

From such an ugly beginning, seemingly only an accident,

I was to become the Holy Cross on the Hill called Calvary.

He was in charge; never was I lost. Never was I forgotten!

What will become me?  What possibly, will next be?

From the hog pen?  What will be my next destination?

He says, “ornaments, decorations, and even jewelry!

But, really, it has been all about mankind’s salvation”?!