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Open Poetry #24
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SPIRIT
Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745
California Desert

0 posted 2002-12-31 02:22 AM



LOST SOULS

She had lain with a sailor,
Smiling and jolly,
She conceived of a child,
Through her own senseless folly.
The boy was born
On a day damp and mild,
And the mother had suffered,
And hated the child.
After three long weeks
Of nursing the babe,
Her body was aching,
From the mess she had made
Of her young life,
So to the monastery she hurried.
Left the boy on the steps,
And away she scurried.
Scurried away
To be seen no more,
And the monks took the babe in,
And shut the door
Of the monastery,
So the child could grow
Surrounded by love,
With nary a foe.

The boy they named
As young John Paul,
They prayed he would grow
Sturdy and tall.
But the Lord had ideas
Of a different manner,
John Paul grew deformed,
Had a terrible stammer.
The years passed,
He grew full of love,
Fond of living,
And his eyes sparkled
When the monks were giving
Him lessons, on religion,
Of the Life of the Lord.
The way to live,
By the pen, not the sword.
His mind was quick,
His brain was nimble.
His body was weak,
Perhaps 'twas a symbol,
That the Lord was taking it
Out on him
For his mother's weakness
And terrible sin.
When in his teens,
He grew a young man,
He could hardly walk
And he never ran.
His body would shake
And his mouth would foam,
It was a great burden,
And his alone.
He got comfort
From the words of the Lord,
Knew in time, patience,
Would gain him reward,
Of a life where pain
And sorrow were unknown,
Where seeds of goodness
Had been diligently sown.
The Lord was his Master,
Him he obeyed,
His was the command,
His was the say.
"Patience, patience,
My young John Paul,
For you will rise,
Whilst others will fall."
When he reached the age
Of just a score,
He would visit the chapel,
More and more.
His body would shake,
His mouth would foam,
And he cried to the Lord,
"Take me home, take me home.
Set me free
From my crippled body and soul,
Let me burrow in your warmth,
Like a small black mole.
How dear God
Do I gain admittance to thy life,
Will my entire life be naught
But misery and strife?"
Each time his prayers
Were always the same,
"Lord, Lord take me,
Blessed be thy name."

The monks loved him,
Prayed and suffered for him.
Knew the solution was forgiveness,
Of his mother's sin,
Once done, the Lord would
cleanse him,
Make him whole.
Then, not before,
He’d have liberty to surrender
his soul.
Outwardly, physically
He blamed his mother for none,
Emotionally, he felt deprived
Of not being as her son.
Inwardly he felt
She had done him a wrong,
And because of this
He was weak, not strong.
'Twas on a night
Like that he was born
He dreamt of his mother,
Suffering from his scorn.
He saw her weeping,
Beseeching his forgiveness,
She was crying for his love,
Not seeing his weakness.
John Paul heard a voice -
Was it the Lord?
"To be whole my child,
Say the forgiving word."
And in his sleep he cried,
"I forgive thee, my mother."
And the monks who heard him,
Their ears did smother,
His mental forgiveness
Would make him whole,
And once whole he could
Surrender his soul.

Next morn when he woke,
His pillow was wet,
He found he could talk,
His body perfect set.
"I'm whole, I'm whole,"
He excitedly cried
To each monk,
As they he espied.
To the chapel he ran,
Faster and faster,
He had to be quick,
He was to meet his Master.
He lit candles
For his mother at the altars,
Whilst the monks prayed
And clasped their Psalters.
John Paul cried,
"Dear God, I am perfect and whole,
Dear God, at last,
I can surrender my soul,
I am no longer crippled,
My mouth doesn't foam,
Oh! My Lord I am ready,
I am ready for home."

He fell to the ground,
Limp and eyes glazed,
The monks who were present,
Stood scared and dazed,
As the young man they had loved
And called their own,
Was taken by an Angel Host
And flown
To the ETERNAL PLACE
Known simply as HOME.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        



© Copyright 2002 das - All Rights Reserved
passing shadows
Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577
displaced
1 posted 2002-12-31 02:28 AM


I speed read, I'm not much for lengthy poetry but I got the meaning of what this says...will come back to read over more thoroughly.
SPIRIT
Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745
California Desert
2 posted 2002-12-31 02:32 AM


I'm a speed readeralso and don't go much for the lengthy stuff either. Fortunately I have maybe only four or five that are of length. I look at them now and read them and think 'Good Heavens, where did this come from?'
RSWells
Member Elite
since 2001-06-17
Posts 2533

3 posted 2002-12-31 02:50 AM


I oozed the lines up two by two and wish your tale to be true. The intention was honest and good. In my unworthy way I'll say God bless you.
SPIRIT
Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745
California Desert
4 posted 2002-12-31 02:58 AM


I wrote this over fourty years ago, this comes under the heading of Imagination rather than Truths, unless of course it is recollection of a prior existence. Thanks.
visitvenus
Member
since 2002-12-30
Posts 101
PA, USA
5 posted 2002-12-31 03:12 AM


Forgiveness is truly a wonderful thing.

I really enjoyed this.

-Venus

SPIRIT
Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745
California Desert
6 posted 2003-01-01 08:01 PM


Thanks!

My perspective of me is different,
As I look out from within,
Than that of others on the outside,
Trying to look in.     ©spirit

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