Poetry: The Hay

THE HAY

A soft breeze
Rustles the dry hay
Murmured sounds
Inaudible
In an angry world
So full of hunger, dread,
Unhappiness and danger
A world
Where violence
Is second nature
And the tales
Of good deeds of men
Fall upon deaf ears
The struggle transpires
A struggle of decisions
Whether to go on
Or give up

Why?
We never really know
Hiding our doubts
Behind false gestures
Of good will
Our motivations
Remain transparent
Unalleviated fears
Continue to grow
As our confusion
Regarding true wisdom
Clouds our understanding
And judgment
Drenching our souls
With emotions of
Self-doubt and worthlessness
Emotions better
Left dead and scattered
As the dry hay
In an October field

The emotions of a child
Basic and true to life
Free from learned fears
And imagined dangers
The basic emotions
Of a child
Portray our emotions
As they should be
Unpolluted by the
Contaminants of the world
As miraculous
And wonderful
As a newborn baby
Cradled in a stable trough

The hay whispers
In his ear
Caressing his head
Telling a story
He listens
This varlet of God
Comforted
By the soft sounds
Of the hay
Against his frame
A frame
That will all too soon
Be scarred
And bloodied
In an attempt
To draw mankind
Back to its beginning
To understand
The basic emotions of
Love, trust and acceptance
The emotions
Of all children
So close to God

As it has
Since the dawn
Of the first sunrise
Live continues
Perpetually
And since that
First man's sin
Mankind has proceeded
Through life
Wrapped in a cocoon
Of self-misery
Unheeding

The hay
Alive since that night of
So long ago
Still stirs
In the quiet darkness
Still is unrequited
The hay
That told its story
To the King of Kings
Yearns
To tell us the same

Listen
To your soul
Go back
To your beginning
Be mindful and
Watchful
And Listen
For the gentle whisperings
Of the wind
And the hay
And when it comes to pass
Heed its tale
With child-like wonder