Saturday, April 19, 2014

"Work Yet to Be Done" - a poem


sitting amongst friends he hears the news
a loved one lost, a friend since birth
in the prime of life, a life snuffed out
he receives the message with grace
while inside his heart grows heavy

the morning air prickles his skin
a chill rolls in off the waves nearby
the brilliant sky holds no color for his eyes

he hears the lost voice
calling out his name
childish games and family meals
a lifetime of memories

he walks away from the cluster of friends
and moves down to the shore
a dull ache spreads through his chest
as he steps into the boat

the damp and musty wood
seasoned by sweat and sun
creaks and moans as he makes his way
into the prow

his friends soon join him
their laughter stalled
as they set out upon the water
a silent hill, a nearby shore
his eyes are closed with grief

his sandaled feet touch the waves
no warmth between his toes
he makes his way to a silent tree
somewhere to be alone

the tears are gentle but they are real
they stream down his sun kissed skin
he wraps his arms around himself
as morning reaches noon

alone his sits in mourning still
when the voices reach his ears
looking up he see the crowd draw near
the sick, the lame, the blind

he wipes his tears upon his sleeve
and makes his way to them
the sadness in his heart aside
compassion now burned with in

with grace and peace he spoke
he taught, he loved, he healed
then fed every single one
there was work yet to be done


-jesse arnold
April 2014

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