Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.191.165.252
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
II.
When the abbot came to the iron gate
he made no move to invite me in,
said,”I’ve seen fell creatures before this night,
you are a monster of death and of sin.”

I said to him,”Yes, that’s what I’ve become,
I was forced by a creature depraved,
didn’t choose to be what you’re seeing now,
but it is said there are none God can’t save.

“I no longer feed upon His children,
and am tortured by my recent past,
I beg you abbot, I need your help,
to bring myself back within His grasp.”

The abbot said,’While it is very true
that no act is beyond the Almighty,
how am I to know this isn’t a trick?
A way for you to get inside and feed?”

In response I pointed to nearby cows
that were feeding on grass just outside,
said,”For a week I’ll feed only on the kine,
you’ve my word not a one of them will die.”

And for the next week that’s just what I did,
until one night the abbot called me back,
said,”I see you’re sincere, besides you can’t feed
on brothers who have crosses around their necks.”

So I was taken in, given a robe,
tasking with watching the grounds after dark,
protect things from brigands and highwaymen,
guide in lost travelers who’d missed the mark.

Some problems arose I had not foreseen,
holding bibles made me burst into flames,
had to read them on a music stand,
singing my fingers when I turned the page.

I wasn’t fool enough to touch a cross,
but merely kneeling to pray before one
caused pins and needle pain in my skin,
but I suffered it to gaze upon The Son.

The other brothers didn’t trust me at first,
don’t blame them for fearing me to no end,
but with other monks who didn’t sleep well
I soon managed to become fast friends.

And for a few years things went rather smooth,
the pain of the hollowness did abate,
until the man who turned me, my damned sire
one night appeared at the monastery’s gate.

He could not come in, he was not invited,
but he taunted me from outside the wall,
called me weak, deluded, a monster at heart,
and laughed maliciously at us all.

I so wanted to go tear his throat out,
but I reason this was part of God’s test,
submit to the evil, go out and fight…
doom my soul to an endless state of unrest.

I beat the temptation that cool, fall night,
and resisted again every few years
when my sire would come to have a laugh,
subject me to his taunts and his jeers.

CONTINUES IN PART III.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required