Saturday, October 13, 2012

Before the Trial

A poem of beauty and love I would write 
To one with whom in times gone by my spite
Did cause great anguish, pain and misery...
Yet waring within my poem is a fee
Of guilt that's mixed with a brothers desire
To warn fair sister to contain the fire;
Lest such a fire consume her heart and soul.
I do not call her to surrender whole
Herself to the wages of sin, but want
To give her hope; lest she crush me in taunt
About my own inexperienced ways,
How she did follow for most of her days
A life far greater than anything done
By her whimsy brother. And she would shun
Me if I did state the facts to her face,
Our relationship would be without trace
Were I to complain, to commiserate
With others about how much I do hate
To see this golden gem, sister of mine,
To have wasted her potential, her shine!
But fool I am, to have thought such hard things,
Frowns, lines and wrinkles such deep thinking brings!
And I've wasted time trying to correct
A person that I've never shown respect.

Now my guilt set aside, or confronted,
Stupidity revealed, my ego blunted,
I now can say, with some pride I might add,
That my sister's way has not ended bad.
Has grown like a flower, withered by frost,
Only to be healed; and though great a cost
We who look on would have done it again,
Would have borne with her the pain of it when
Through mire and marsh she did make her bent way,
Through betrayal, and hurt, the darkened day.
I know that this flower still does survive...
Is growing still, is very much alive.
And I the gardener do work to change
My attitudes. Though my ideas with age
Have not changed at all with respect to sin,
I have realized that in order to win
Against the weed that threatens the flower
To humble myself, as a rain shower
Blanket the shoot of life with what it needs;
Rather than grunting and griping of weeds
That shunt about my flowering treasure...
I've learned that sacrifice is the measure
By which I may accomplish all my goals...
For mares do become horses from small foals. 

Whatever the case is, whatever choice
That this flower makes, whatever she doth voice
To be her desire, her decision,
I will remain adviser, will not shun
Her when with weeds she parlays and doth speak,
But will remain in the foreground, all meek
Learning from her lead how to approach such
As never see sunlight, who rarely touch 
What I believe is good, and wholesome to;
So I have learned from my sister a true
Skill, to be forgiving of others who
Do cause me great duress, who are untrue.

If my words do offend, know that I jest
On nothing at all; and may you be blest
To have heard what I have to say in this...
May it bring you joy, happiness, and bliss.
I do not admonish in order to hurt,
But as your brother, to warn you! A flirt
Turns to passion when passion is a breeze...
A breeze comes and goes whenever it please.
But love remains in the heart that's given
To a devotion, steadfastness! Give in
Charity and you will never regret
What you do in life. Though turmoil beset
Your person at every turn and crossing
You will find that love is much like flossing;
It must be kept up, must be regular.
Lest you should in time grow quite unsure
Of the cleanliness of your of your heart and soul...
So as you would brush your teeth, such a goal
As giving your heart charities wreath makes
Life worth living, even when the stakes
Are high enough to choke the soul. Trial
Is the means we know that life is worth while.

                         Before the Trial, (c) Luke Bennette, October 2012

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