Tuesday, June 5, 2012

A Cannon Ball can Only Break

Mango you are, sweet, and tender; ripe for
The pickings in summer time heat, where heart
Beat matches incoming wafts from the shore;
Yet to you these things cause your flesh to part,
To heave a sigh of sorrow and of woe;
How could this sense of life to you impart?
Do you sense the love of tomorrow, know
The adventure that waits for you? The lark
In morning times sings joyfully, but night
Sends a gale of broken stars to my park
Of dreams. And though this end is quite the sight
It causes much pain to you, and you mark
It with tears and bitter groans. For your plight
Makes sweet mango's grow sour in the dark.

Yet what is known by what is gleaned to be
The truth, that is what we see as set, done,
Finished, a comprehensive review, tree
Chopped down and roots torn out, now becomes one
With reality; for though the mango
Breaks easily from a piercing claw, falls
To the ground and has bruises then to show:
While all of this is true you are not, calls
A man standing in a tree, a mango.
But you are subject to the pains of life,
And the perils that come with burning strife,
The war and toil that is man's lot to bear,
And in all of this your own life may tear,
Like so many miles of man's concrete walls.

Like a wall that's grown a door by a mean
Instrument, a cannon ball, a bucket
That slings large boulders, weapons that men dream
Can break the heart and spirit if men let
Them, so too is your heart broken by means
Outside of your control. Yet you are set
With determination to face the foe,
Who races to meet you, fight toe to toe,
And no matter the love behind the wall,
You'll fight to the death for your ancient hall!
But as they reach the breach made clear as day,
A shadow comes along, is in their way;
Although you cannot see the hand that stays
Their armies from your home, in such a daze.

Now suddenly comes thunder, clap of sound
Makes imminent the approach of spring rain;
And you turn in surprise, for you are found
Unprepared for such a sight, you do strain
In the mind to understand, comprehend,
Why it is that your wall is on the mend!
Now water rushes round in a moat, made
Deep by lightning strokes that routed the foe,
And caused them to flee in their pomp and show.
Now light shines forth it's splendid ray of hope
And gives to the ground another show of
Faith, prompts tree's to come forth, as with new love
That shows forth in pregnancy. Now, you cope.

What is this feeling? Is it joy? Gladness?
Abandonment? What could give such a maid
As one that did cry in remiss for bliss
To be given her in the hour that staid
Her growth? Yet for all those cries now her tears
Are of joy, and do employ the scent made
Sweet by the fruit of her prayer; her fears
Now routed and fallen to the dust, staid
By the hand of one who is greater than
She. But what is the name of this great man?
All dressed in white, who says he is I Am?
For he has unlocked your heart like a dam,
And what once was kept in store by pain
Is released so as to praise his great name!

            A Cannon Ball can Only Break! (c) Luke Bennette, June 2012

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