My girth encompasses six thousands years
Each ring within my bowel marks history.
I offered up my olive branch to Noah in flood
Crusaders, with their swords all soaked in blood,
To them I gave my olive branch, my mind.
And from my mount, I saw mankind
In all his foolishness, I cried myself to sleep.
Here in my garden he came to weep,
To bleach the rocks with tears so deep,
Lonely in life waiting for God.
We the olives watch, like night owls.
My keepers watch me now;
They touch my bark with love
They measure my girth, they bless my fruit,
They need my roots, for theirs have gone,
I feel the greedy shrapnel flying on,
I fear the battles just continue, no one’s won,
Their roots are mine without them we will die.
Up root the olive, in your peril lie.
Caroline Baldock© 2015