The Pear-Apple Tree

oh pear-apple tree,
blessed be the fruit that
weighs down your boughs
to kiss the ground.

my eyes beheld a wondrous thing
when time caressed spring blooms
and slow-step danced center stage
into evenings drowsy with sun and light.

gunshots hang in mid-air, seemingly pause
to take in the zenith of your existence:
fruit that is borne and exists to nourish and
i cannot help but stand guard, overprotective
of your limbs and existence.

A close friend asked me this question: "Grace, what is the purpose of your life? Where do you see yourself 10 years from now?"

What greater purpose is there but to love like Christ loves? To love people who have killed other people, to love people who have crippling addictions, to love the abandoned, to love the brokenhearted, to love the person who has hurt me the most. I want to live deeply in God's love and I want to be so mesmerized, so captivated, so satisfied in the love of Christ. And ten years from now? I want to see myself making the decision each morning to die to myself and take up my cross and follow Jesus.