Just because he could
I dropped Baby Girl off at school this morning and talked to her teacher for a minute. Her teacher mentioned a paper baby Girl wrote that was very well done, "she takes after you" the teacher said. I replied "No No No she gets that from her dad" "Well maybe she gets it from both of you" ummmmmmmmmmmmmm I let it go but No No No she gets it from her dad.
I've been going through his papers some more, I came across this one he wrote his Jr. year of high school. I'm not sure what the exact assignment was but I do know this goes above and beyond because nobody in 11th grade writes a 11 page poem. Unless your name is Dan. Dan did because Dan could, because he was a phenomenal writer. I wanted to share his poem with you just because I am so blown away by it.
This is what Dan said about his poem:
“I’m kinda proud of the fact that I wrote this all in one
sitting because it’s almost twelve pages long of poetry, all one poem, it took
me about five hours to write, I just sat down and did it.”
The story takes place during the time of the dark ages, when
Roman Catholicism was the only form of Christianity.
Many places this world I have gone.
Many people in this life I have met.
Upon many an adventure and journey, has my heart
Force my body set.
Yet none had been worth writing upon,
Until indeed this one did come along.
For you see, I had the grandest desire
(that of fleeing the deceiving Papacy)
That grew like a raging fire
For truth over hypocrisy.
And this wish had taken me away.
Far from Europe and her lies.
And brought me safely to another land
Where I sat under foreign skies.
One day while sitting in little shack,
A tavern it was pretending to be,
I spied with a much intrigued interest,
The strangest women would hope to see.
Her dress was a tapestry of dirt,
Held together with many a rag.
Her gray hair revealed her hygiene.
Her teeth were in the smile of a hag.
She walked all in a hunch,
For the years had taken their toll;
Her person was tired and weak,
But it masked beauty within her soul.
Within her eyes shinned youth,
In the midst of troubled year.
She lived within the truth;
She lived without the fears.
Humbly she asked the man
Behind the counter there
If perhaps he had a morsel
Possibly to spare.
Reluctantly he gave in,
From much persistence on her part;
She now owned some scraps of bread,
So her departure was at start.
She held it oh so tightly,
Her only meal though I,
To my surprise she stepped outside
She called out to the sky.
And thus they all descended,
And made their sweet and innocent sound;
Her face lit up and she was young again,
For her friends were all around.
I marveled at this gentleness
Being shown before my eyes;
And how I would not have seen,
This heart of a queen
Had I only seen her disguise.
It was about this time
That I looked across the way,
And witnessed two approaching pilgrims
Making laziness of the day.
As they drew close I noticed,
They were not of sober mind;
I feared that should I taste of their drink,
It was not water I would find.
A ragged pair they were;
And lacking in common smarts.
I hoped their value proved to be,
More then the sum of their parts.
They sat down there beside me,
One to my left and right;
And spoke with utter candor,
Regarding the previous night.
These were men,
I soon deduced,
Who had never known the Truth.
How could it come, after all,
To a simple minded recluse?
But this ignorance of my ego,
Was shortly to be made known
My own misconceptions of piety,
Were shortly to be shown.
For what is more humble then for this man,
From in the depths of despair,
To beseech the one almighty God
Through a mumbled prayer?
And what better lesson of piety
Then to destroy the idle of the drink,
And offer then his very life,
If only no further down he would sink?
Then suddenly my heart did ache,
For on his current state I judged his worth;
Instead of offering this grown child a chance,
At a wonderful new birth.
There I saw what true faith was,
Not by a man in beautiful robes,
And not in the cathedrals of Rome,
But there by the repentance from a broken heart,
From a man without a home.
There I sat in contemplation,
Of what truth really was;
And why a man says the things he says
And does the things he does
The bartender then walked up to me,
Carrying a drink of higher than normal charge.
He was a man of much intimidation,
As he was very large.
His head was bald as a baby,
Yet his beard had many a year,
When in a gruff and troubled manner
He said “let me make one thing clear:”
He then told stories of drunkards,
Such as ones whom I’d just met;
He was a man without sympathy,
He was a man without regret.
He spoke in very lowly terms,
Of those who passed this way.
Of those he loathed and hated;
In fact he cursed the very day.
He closed the tavern shortly thereafter,
And asked me quickly to vacate;
He had something he must do,
And it was getting late.
So myself and others present,
We left in our good time;
Taking with them their drink,
Leaving but a dime.
Outside that place I stood,
As inconspicuous as I could;
For something of that man intrigued me.
He was a man without love,
And pain so unsubsiding;
Yet there was something more to him,
Something he was hiding.
As he left he glanced suspiciously,
To see who might be revealed;
Naturally I made myself scarce,
So as to remain concealed.
He walked somberly to a flower bed,
Where lines of thought crossed his face;
As to which ones would go with him,
And which would hold their place.
Now this I found quite curious,
A man as hard as he,
That he would delight in such niceties
Seemed rather odd to me.
Yet nevertheless he traveled on,
And I close behind;
Down the narrowest, rockiest, meanest path,
I never hoped to find.
The prize that was waiting at the end,
Was a meadow so lush and so green,
So close to God’s creation,
As I have ever seen.
In the center of that meadow,
With nothing else around,
Sat a lonely wooden marker,
Stuck firmly in the ground.
There beside it he knelt down,
The flowers still in his grip,
I didn’t hear him make a sound,
But I saw a tremble from his lip;
Then I saw a tear drop,
Fall from one uncaring eye,
And the man whose every word was harsh,
Lifted a gentle prayer to the sky.
I pondered who it was he mourned,
Of who had meant so much in his life,
And then I heard him whisper,
“my sweet, beloved wife.”
For all have loved or whished for it,
Even the hardest amongst our kind;
If only we gave some of it,
How much more we would find!
I left him there to remember,
And be alone with his true love,
It was time to seek some shelter,
As the sun was setting above.
I came upon this makeshift village,
With many a pilgrim there.
Half were drunk and half passed out,
And nobody had room to spare.
So I sat down with an old oak tree,
It would do for this night;
However just to be safe,
It was best if I slept light.
The camp did finally quite down,
And my lack of comfort I could not deny,
Wolves and crickets were all one could hear,
And shadows filled the sky.
When all had grown silent,
And it appeared all pilgrims had come.
And all the men had satisfied,
Their bellies with wine and rum;
It was at this time a new traveler appeared,
The likes of which none had seen;
He walked with strength in every step,
And his expression seemed slightly mean.
With a spot of dirt upon his face,
And callouses upon his hand,
Thus it became apparent then
That this stranger was from another land.
If one looked close there was a small cross,
Not fine, but rugged at best;
It hung in an unassuming manner,
Upon the man’s strong chest.
The man had known hard work,
That much was plain to tell,
Now his reasons for coming toward me,
On this I started to dwell.
He looked on with that same expression,
So much that I wished he would turn away;
But there he stood in front of me,
As though he had something that he must say.
He uttered not a word,
But instead stretched out his hand,
Reaching down, he pulled me up,
From my bed of sand.
He took me to a small house,
If it be right to call it that,
He handed me a small stool,
And then in the dirt he sat.
Seeing I was hungry,
He gave me some bread,
I was so focused on my hunger,
I hardly noticed he went un-fed.
As the night drew on he rolled out his mat,
And motioned me to it;
I prepared for sleep and so did he,
In the same place he chose to sit.
The stranger was a poor man,
But he worked hard just the same.
He gave me all he had that night,
I wish I knew his name.
When I woke up the next morning,
He was nowhere to be found.
He never said a word to me,
He never made a sound.
If this were the whole of my story,
It would reveal some truth, I’d hope, at least;
But this is not the end of it,
There was one more person left to meet.
As I departed the strangers house,
And went upon my way,
I was disappointed in those events,
Which had led me to that day.
I was seeking out the Truth,
I hadn’t found it yet;
I had met some fascinating people,
But that’s not where my heart was set.
Then in the distance I saw a man,
Familiar, yet still unable to place.
I felt something special about him, though,
As we now stood face to face.
“you seek the truth,”
He said to me,
“yet from it you turn your eyes,
It’s not so hard to find,” says He,
“it dawns no disguise.”
It was then that I saw his hands,
In each there was a hole;
Standing there I began to feel
A burning in my soul.
“you’ve seen true faith,
you’ve seen true love,
and the giving of one’s own;
but still you stand here and say
‘the Truth has not been shown’”
“for the truth will be revealed
In the revealing of one’s heart.
This is where the truth is stored,
Or where it is torn apart.”
It was then I noticed on his side,
A wound like that of a spear.
In one simple moment it all made sense,
The truth was then made clear.
For men they seek such complex things,
When the truth is plain to see;
The truth was shown to me that day,
He was standing there before me.
It’s not to be found in dogma or doctrine,
But in a grand and simple sacrifice;
That gave the truth to all men,
To break the devil’s vice.
Here I end my story,
Though my journey carries on,
As I seek to spread the truth,
And let the truth make me strong.
Until that great and glorious day,
When I shall no longer roam,
And as I have been shown the Truth,
The Truth shall lead me home!
Hey I wrote a book about my grief. You can buy it HERE
Comments
Post a Comment