Poem: We Yield, We Bow

This poem was inspired by seeing how the weight of the ice during a icestorm caused the rows of Cyprus trees in my driveway to bend over. To me, it was as if they we bowing to some stately dignitary who was about to pass through. This image stuck in my head and I finally some months ago felt led to use this as a spiritual object lesson of sorts about who the weight of things in our lives sometimes leave us no choice but to bow to our Creator.

We Yield, We Bow…By Chris V. Bridges

In their fertile and lively splendor, they stand.
Cyprus trees, proud and slender, tall and regal;
Like sentries fighting against the onslaught of the wind:
Always looking skyward, as if waiting for the Great Return.

But with winter’s icy blast comes the challenge of a new burden.
Gentle frozen droplets from the sky add a crystalline shimmering.
But this new garment produces a seemingly unbearable load.
They can no longer stand.

So perhaps ever so gently for some,
And with haste for others,
Almost as if nodding to the One who gave them their glory,
They yield, They bow.


In our fertile and lively splendor, we stand
The redeemed, made in the image of God, washed in the blood of the Lamb;
Like sentries fighting against the onslaught of sin:
Always looking skyward, waiting for the Great Return.

But with life’s wintry blast comes daily challenges, daily burdens.
With the intent of increasing our faith, adding to our spirits a shimmering
But this new garment produces a seemingly unbearable load
We can no longer stand.

So perhaps ever so gently for some,
And with haste for others,
Nodding to the One who gave up His glory
We yield, we bow.