Ode to the Fallen Clown
The Friday of Easter as a child I was taught
that the time, twelve to three, should be spent
pondering the cost of the ransom which was bought
for poor slaves, indentured and absent
any hope, the chattel of earth's prince, prodigals
the Father opened-armed longed to see,
unchained from their bondage, severed by miracles
of undeserved Grace that was free.
If an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth
is the scale upon which all is weighed,
then man's plight was woeful, perilously uncouth,
his best raiment tattered, and frayed.
Found wanting, unbalanced, fierce justice awaiting,
what mercy dared he hope be displayed
to avid partakers, his riots creating
such havoc communion was betrayed?
It was here man's despair should display disbelief,
as sentences demanded were reversed!
The Advocate defending, to man's guilty relief,
(recompense for his sins was the worst),
nothing to mitigate, and no proxy extant,
He'd pronounced what's absurd to the ear,
"I give in exchange my life for his!" Persistent,
He paid His life to destroy man's fear!
Unconditional Love! Who would dare not respond,
what ingrate could despise such largesse?
Imperfect, man may tumble from his newly found
restatement and re-birth, nonetheless;
but equally as true, he need never stay down
like before, but stumblings confess,
for He has forgiven tomorrow's fallen clown,
restored him from his guilty distress.
Where a twig's being bent, so a tree that way grows,
directly to the sky or askew.
An adult is the same, reviewing what he chose,
one can see from choices how he grew.
For a few that Friday was a day to garden,
potatoes to put deep in the loam;
but in silence, papa's brood respected His pardon,
that Friday, in reflection at home.
Poems From the Goober Tree http://nathoo.wustl.edu/goober_tree.htm