It could not stand on its own,
Accepting advices from friends and foe,
Not refusing deceit,
Allowing the little foxes,
Not hurting the Vine alone,but He that dresses it
It used an axe on itself
how can a branch cut from the Vine that made it? But it did
Mrs Winter came mocking,causing it to be stuck and immobile.
And it got confused.
Trying to be wise.
What a fool it was.
Mr Cankerworm in it was working,
This time not just sapping the branch’s daily bread
But blocking its passage of nutrients to it.
He stung it,Mr Guilt
A spoilt branch cannot stay in the Vine.
Even though the Vine held it so tight
With Mr Guilt’s help
It removes itself out of shame
Being ungrafted by the Vine dresser,
Yet still so was His plan.
It could not save itself
Just like cleaning a stained garment with dirty hands,
It could not redeem itself.
The results came,and Mr Guilty was its name.
With wet pillows it sought the Vine
Like Nicodemus,always at night
And broken was the heart of He who made it.
Taken up to be grafted back in the Vine.
It feels like a stranger seeing new branches stronger than it.
It fears they will estrange it.
But with much food from the Vine,it learns not to compare.
Now boldy it declares,”I was made for a purpose. To help set free those like my former self.
Even though Mr Guilt gave it reasons to be with him.
It now knows where it truly belong.
Though it may be at the crossroads
The Vine will guide it through all things.
For He is the delight of the Vinedresser.

Azubuike Hannah