Saturday, February 10, 2018

We Walk, Crawl, Leap, Fall, Die...



Sometimes when reading 'the greats ' of poetry
a voice mocks me with 'why do you even try?!!'
For the same reason 
they did, I am sure
...for only a poet knows the 'word-lust and lure' 
that it seems, the poet must
for better or worse,
endure 

and a trek on skis through fences and trees
stirred today's poem...
This poem is from a gem of a book published in 1885.
 I found it a few years ago in a thrift store!

 (for easier reading click on image)



We walk on ages of leaf-lavished plunder
Hobos of hunger, we ravage its clime
Derelict darlings of God-authored wonder
Flickers of fancy on fields old as time

Sometimes we crawl beneath fir-boughs and fences
Hunting for something that just isn’t there
We, creatures cursed with a thirst for formed answers
Fumble for more than faith’s life-blood of prayer

We leap on landscapes once loved by forefathers
Tended and tilled by their blood, sweat and tears
Why in the scheme of progress and its authors
Should we think we are owed more than our peers

We fall, the Giver of grace bends to help us
He is hope’s kind ‘upsy-daisy, my sweet’
He never turns a blind eye nor forgets us
He is the Planter of blooms at our feet

We die the death of each breath-gifted being
This is the flip-side of all life bestowed
Then, when this body yields taste-touch-hear-seeing
We meet the One to whom our life is owed

We walk, crawl, leap and fall, all of us learning
Time is a tight-rope twixt cradle and grave
We, like acrobats balance awe and yearning
Inching toward The Fulfillment we crave

© Janet Martin

Philippians 3:14 
I press toward the mark 
for the prize 
of the high calling of God 
in Christ Jesus.


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