Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Clarify (10/15/15)
-
TITLE: Parable | Previous Challenge Entry
By Margaret Kearley
10/22/15 -
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
Within his pocket, by his heart,
There lay a treasure of his soul,
A crumpled sepia photograph,
Aged by long years taking their toll.
Portrayed in faded browns and grey
A garden, beautiful to see,
A time-shot glimpse from bygone years,
Long sunken days of history.
And now he stood, the journey long,
The winding search of many-a day
Had brought him to the garden fair
To where his loved-one’s shadow lay.
He studied hard the photograph
Of flowering blooms by crystal stream,
That burbled ‘neath wrought iron bridge
Like some idyllic far-off dream.
Cascades of blossom edged the print
Exuberantly multiplied
Whilst flowers pushed through close-mown lawns
Each inch florally occupied.
He hardly dare lift up his eyes,
Fast veiled with curtain drapes of tear,
At desolate and wild a scene,
Of rampant nature year on year.
He gazed on ruin, damage, loss,
But could not leave and walk away,
His captivated heart, in love,
Resolved the price he’d freely pay.
So inch by painful inch, he dug,
And step by step he toiled with pain
Destroying bramble, thorn and weed,
His beauteous garden to reclaim.
So deep the damage of the years
Infecting loam and soil state
That even in now weed-free ground
Small seeds could scarcely germinate.
But inch by painful inch he dug
Until his eyes became aware
That he was in the very heart,
The centre of his garden fair,
Though scarcely recognisable,
For devastation was extreme,
Here was the rusted iron bridge,
And here, a stagnant odorous stream.
He reached into his pocket depth,
Leaning upon his spade and staff
And mused upon the dual scene,
The ruin, and the photograph:
The crystal stream – the stagnant pool,
Pure water clean – green algae murk,
Rich fruitfulness – dark weed and thorn.
With spade and tools, he set to work.
Tracing each inlet, creek and brook,
He dug, he cleansed each rivulet,
Debris amassed by long long years
Of disregard and sad-neglect
Was torn up by the very root,
Destroyed and burnt in furnace glow.
Then burbling, bubbling water sprang,
And crystal stream began to flow.
Deep hidden springs coursed, gushed and surged
Into each waiting garden glen,
Until revived, restored, renewed,
Great beauty flourished once again.
Within his pocket, by his heart,
There lay two treasures of his soul,
One sepia snapshot of the past
Aged by long years taking their toll.
And one new photograph, each hue
Alive with life and fruit, rich, grand,
Each picture’s dampened by love’s tears
And firmly held in nail-pierced hand.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.
