Come quickly, O Creator,
to heal your broken trees.
The cedars of Palestine are
torn apart by rocket shrapnel.
The cottonwoods of Mississippi
are still grieving the mob lynchings,
their memories held deep in their roots.
The broad fig trees of Damascus are
recoiling their branches to hide
their eyes from the bloodshed.
The palms in Benghazi are still
scorched from the fires of
death & raging frustration.
Come, O Creator, to salve
the wounds of your creation
and bring new life to the trees.