PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Right Reverend Bishop, you set your lines

of iambs in a smooth pentameter

to give us in the form of verse a glimpse

of Christ's Apostle John, the youngest of

the Twelve (perhaps a mere thirteen years old,

and bullied by the local haters for

the way he loved) when he was called by Christ---

known also as Jesus of Nazareth.

But in your poem, Bishop, young John is now

old, weakened in his body by his age.

But yet, his soul's delight in Christ was not

in any way at all diminishing,

His written record of Christ's Ministry

he was, when your poem starts, just finishing;

attended by two Brethren, Ignatius

and Polycarp.  I cannot summarize

your poem as I have not yet read it through.

Anatomy's rebellion now intrudes

to slow my readings; and the doctors tell

me that I do not have that long to live

(Chronic Heart Failure; my case--- terminal).

But with the delectation of my youth

when---clad in sleeveless tee and baggy jeans,

and happily barefoot during my parents'

absence that day for a long shopping spree

(and, in their presence, baggy jeans and bare

feet just were not permissible inside

their house or out in the front or back yard)---

I read, in the Septuagint version,

the Book of Tobit:  in the risen sun's

late morning light, barefoot, and made aware

of Truth and Language other than I had

been told.  And reading there, my jeans distressed,

my feet grass-stained, I was so deeply blessed

to read words that the ancient Seventy

had chosen for the Lord's New Testament:

Hebrew to Greek in Alexandria,

funded by Ptolemy Philadelphus.

With similar excitement for a new

reading experience, I shall now delve

into your poem . . . thanking you as I read

and praying this for you:  you have reposed

in Christ, and I hope that the comfort of

His joyous and effulgent light surrounds

your soul with Heaven's finest happiness.

Starward-Led