Poetry Religious

Meet Me — If You Dare

A Poem

Sarah Woodard / 8.22.22

A fig tree laments in the desert

Meet me –
if you dare –
in the faith-forgotten land.

I’ll be waiting here
under the graceless gray sky
that stretches out unceasing.

Meet me –
if you dare –
on this cold and barren ground.

I am like the fig tree,
wasting the soil.
A man came looking for fruit
And found none.

Three years now he’s come –
and still I offer none.

I hear your footsteps.
“Have you come to
cut me down?” I ask,
eyes downcast.

Suddenly I am aware
of the weight of the world
that has weathered me,
withered me.

My bones are brittle branches,
dried up in the darkness,
grown hungrier for light, for life.

“I’ve produced nothing,”
I tell you, back turned away,
for how can you hear that and stay?

And then your voice breaks in,
soft and strong.

“I’ve not come to cut you down,
but to gather you up,
and help you grow.”

I lift my head to find
an extended hand,
welcoming and warm.

“Come and see –
trust in me, and
you will bear fruit again.”

Here, where Spirit
meets the bone –
I look up, and I swear,
I can see the light.

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