The Wood's Tale

The Wood's Tale.

I am only a piece of wood...a rough piece at that.
I have no smoothness or attractive colour.
There is no beauty about me.
I am crooked, broken and dirty.
I have lain on the ground for some time, trodden on and stumbled over by many.
Once I stood tall like that tree over there.
But in my old age no one remembers how I used to be.
How I provided shelter from the rain.
How I let children play in my branches.
How I gave colour and majesty to the hillside.
It seems my time is done, my purpose fulfilled, my end close.
But didn't that man point at me and say I would do for a king?
I'm sure he said a king although he said it scornfully.
Someone is coming to me.
He is shaping me to make a cross.
I am being carried through a crowded street.
A man is thrown upon me.
He is being nailed to me.
We are being lifted.
The man is crying in pain and anguish.
His blood is running down me.
This is no ordinary man; he is a man you could trust.
I feel ashamed to be part of his pain.
I wish I could help him instead of hurting him.
He speaks incredible words, putting me at ease.
Now I am proud to stand with him...proud to feel the nails in me too...proud to be a part of this moment in time.
Everyone who remembers this man will remember me as well.