There is a tree in the garden of my soul
Bare, roots are dead to the core
These promises like butterflies,
You are asking me to release
Let them fly
Wild, open, with bended knees
Wild they are and hard to tame
I'm not meant to hold a promise being lame
Broken branches and bearing no fruit
You ask me to trust You
While you uproot
Hummingbirds do not perch on what is dead
Poisonous words, no matter how sweet something was said
You must cut, burn and throw it all away
But as Your hummingbird
Where will I lay?
Find a new branch?
Fly away from You?
You're in this fire
Asking me to rest in all of Your truth
Crackling branches, eyes gripped shut
"I trust You. I trust You. I trust You."
As you begin to cut.
The garden goes quiet
No humming of my wings
And all I hear You whisper,
"Soon, my hummingbird. Very soon.
It will be growing."