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Lean On Me by Belinda van Rensburg When I was yet a tiny fir tree Shallow-rooted, supple, thin; Another young tree grew beside me And I thought it rude of him. I needed space; refused to share - Why couldn't he just go away? About his needs I did not care, But always wanted my own way. Then one fateful day at dawn As dew drops sparkled on my leaves, I saw a doe and her young fawn Approaching our copse of trees. A hoof crushed me as they went by; And I was broken; bent - I offered up a silent cry Believing that my life was spent. "Don't weep, brother; I am here - Lean on me for I am strong"; 'Twas the voice of one so near; The one I used to treat so wrong. Many years have come and gone, And seasons good and ill; Though we have both grown tall and strong I lean against him still. If you should come upon some trees And notice one is bent, Look closer and you might just see It's leaning on its friend. |
This poem may be use within Christian ministries for any non-profit purpose without requesting permission.