Acquainted – first draft

(Though I rarely get past the first draft.)

 

I am not well acquainted with death

The hungry maw, the chilling breath –

 

I recall hearing that long ago

A rabbi died, His head bowed low

Not on a throne, but with a crown

of thorns across his bloody brow

 

I do not well know the dark he smote

Death unraveled, curse He broke.

 

Distant rumors on the wind –

I’ve heard of wars, and greed, and sin

Yes, blogs, and papers, Tweets decry

Yet naught I have seen with mine own eye

 

But knowing not my plight before

How to guess His love the more?

 

He tells his children newly born

“Blessed are the saints who mourn.”

When our brittle hearts are pierced with pain

The dearer is the blood that washes all away

 

My mind yet quails to comprehend

The weary, heavy chains – our once inevitable dead end.

 

All the brighter shines the Lord of life

Who shattered darkness, rebuked our shame

Healed the sick, raised up the lame

No more sorrow, no more strife –

 

He carried death, hung on a tree

To buy for me eternity.

What do you want to be remembered for?

Better, I think, to ask, “How do you want to be remembered?”

Not for any particular act or contribution — not for what I wrought with my hands, but for who I was.

Who was the 14th president of the United States? What did he do for our country? Don’t you know? Important things, surely!

Better to ask, whose kindness impressed you? Who was the first friend you made when you went to a new school? Whose joy shone so bright that in its light you recognized your troubles for the insignificant motes of dust that they were?

Though I’ve memorized it by now, I hope you won’t remember my sales pitch. I hope you’ll remember a glowing soul with the weight of glory a mantle about her shoulders — a hope I sometimes forget.

Note: This blog post is part of the Post A Day 2011 Challenge, so forgive its meandering ways. I’m quite tired. But it’s good to write often. So I’m writing.