Spirit Tree

It is as if
My spirit were a tree,
With daily storms and pests
Stripping my limbs from me.

Each time a fresh wound
Begins to heal.
The worms cause some more
Bark to peel.

Each day carries more
Pain, worry, despair, debt
Limb by limb leaving my center
Open, lost, bleeding, wet.

God gave all trees the ability
To withstand such storms
But even the strongest tree can fall
By attack from these worms.

It's as if only some bark
And a few leaves remain
And the trunk has began to splinter
Against the strain.

The once beautiful tree
That stood on this ground
Looks lonely and naked
When you look around.

There are those who have
Come to help me
Patching and treating the damage
They can immediately see.

However the damage
Has been so complete
I wonder, if ever again,
I'll be able to compete.

I wonder if enough will be left
For a totem pole
As an everlasting monument
To my immortal soul.

Or,

Maybe survival
Is not to be my lot,
That a seed from this pollen,
Will grow in my spot.

And I will stand alone no more
In the shade
Of a whole new spirit tree
This seed has made.