Tangled

The bush grows green at the tips of branches,

While twisted vines lurk below.

How do we see others?

From what’s on top or

Do we see the tangles that may snake underneath?

I dare say: Some days gnarly notions arise,

Surprising even me – how could I have such thoughts?!

How do I stop the turmoil inside?

I see the greenery, but my focus is on the contortion below:

My very nature mirrored in the entanglement.

Thank you, LORD.

We are not alone,

For even this bush reflects a part of how we are some days.