Preacher on Wednesday

An anecdotal poem of an experience I had with one of the kindest men I've met.

In the shade of a Memorial

I found my day, drawn out in sun

I sprawled out in an open stance

My little, sinful heart.

Through sculptured grass

Cut, thick lines, neat and refined

Came the space I sat

Reclaimed from the city

He came to me

A youthful face, no doubt

Not far from my tender age

A dance of smiles

He had come to save.

Speak to me of Psalms

and I will not know

A preacher I say, in the sheep's clothes

But his tongue!

If silver could be so pure.

He did not condemn

Did not deny, that life is much prettier

as we, you and I, stand side by side

And I could not help but smile

as he stole me from my mind

And he did no greater kindness

Not in any of the sweet promises

Of him and of his God

(That could be mine too!)

When his eyes still smiled

  As I denied belief.

And I grieve. Still now in myself.

I would be forgiven for this

If God were to exist

But first it must be I to forgive

For that I have done to me

One day, in age,

I will remember that day.

With hand on my shoulder as he prayed

For my sake. And walked away

Another soul, that much closer

To being saved.

Reviews

[LightforChrist]

I absolutely love this poem! The way you describe evangelism in this poem is so beautiful that it makes me want to be there with you. Great job and keep writing! :)

[Francis-Gray]

Thank you very much!