Innocent

Haiku for contemplating death

A tree, when cut down

still has hope that it might sprout,

and send forth new shoots.

When mortal life ends

there can be no returning.

The line has been ruled.

Images of death.

A lake might lose its water:

a river dries up.

Let me be hidden

among the dead in Sheol;

I long for release.

My words of complaint;

someone write them in a book,

lest they be forgot.

My vindication

awaits me. I shall see God

when my time has come.

There must be someone,

among heaven’s hosts, who knows

I am innocent.

© Ken Rookes 2020

Posted in response to the Narrative lectionary for the third Sunday after Pentecost