There must have been
Some days when she forgot,
When the child was only a child—
Not that epiphanal flash sprung forth
Like an arrow from the bow of God,
But only a plodding child
With an affinity for dirt.
She must have stood
Some days in the doorway
Concerned with his mortal hurts,
Watching with a mother's eye
As his naked feet went pounding,
Sounding with a child's quick beat,
Through hard and narrow earthbound streets.
There must have been
Those days when she forgot,
But soon she would remember
And know it every day
That each passing day he became
More and more like an arrow
Returning to the heart of God.
rcs.
4th draft: 08/12/01
©1980 Ronald C. Southern
Some days when she forgot,
When the child was only a child—
Not that epiphanal flash sprung forth
Like an arrow from the bow of God,
But only a plodding child
With an affinity for dirt.
She must have stood
Some days in the doorway
Concerned with his mortal hurts,
Watching with a mother's eye
As his naked feet went pounding,
Sounding with a child's quick beat,
Through hard and narrow earthbound streets.
There must have been
Those days when she forgot,
But soon she would remember
And know it every day
That each passing day he became
More and more like an arrow
Returning to the heart of God.
rcs.
4th draft: 08/12/01
©1980 Ronald C. Southern
6 comments:
That, my friend, is the best you have done...the rhythm of it, the flow, pulls you through without making you stop. The thought is complete and comes full circle.
Thanks...I'll share that will many.
Damnit! WITH many!
Ron, that is absolutely beautiful. It actually hit my wee little heart and almost made me cry.
Well done, and from all I have read, definetly my favorite of yours.
PS: I was talking about Mary's Child...I dunno if I hit the right comment button, but seriously, on the second/third time reading it I really teared up a bit. Its awesome.
Ain't it the truth? Anyway, nobody but me is likely to read your comments, but they're nice!
powerful is truth. I love it, as it speaks to me.
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