DregsA Poem by David PlantingaJob answersAlthough that shadow’s tread was light And its cold presence absence massed, A darker darkness to contrast, A hole in the black cloak of night, Its stealthy passing did disturb And woke a sleeper from his dreams. Such plunging darkness almost gleams And its dense nearness must perturb. That wraith was once a man of wrath, One who would punish, and ordained To fill that liking, then constrained To follow down a gruesome path.
Where is almighty God, and who, And how commands the stars to hide, Or flips the heavens on their side, To quench the day, and night renew? His presence is too great to blot One corner of a chamber’s gloom, And everywhere He must subsume The crossroads and the lonely spot.
How can defiant souls contend With Him, or what discernment tell Where His stern, righteous judgment fell? Yet His law says what will offend. We cannot see, but we can hear, And knowing His decrees, I err, And sinning willfully incur The sentence for a mutineer. Lying cannot refute His word Nor pleading lighten grievous guilt, And if He rules that I have spilt Some of the bitter cup He poured I’ll hold it up for Him to fill It to the brim once more, and gulp That potion to its dregs and pulp. I will surrender to His will, But truly, the contrite can pray For pardon, and when they confess, Meekness may balance sinfulness. But if, defiantly, I say I’m perfect, my worst secrets prove That I’m perverse, and if I curse The day I’m born I’m even worse, Too bad for chiding to improve. A wretch, I shouldn’t curse that day And my accession to this world Has scorched the calendar, and curled Its page to cinders charred away.
© 2022 David Plantinga |
StatsAuthorDavid PlantingaPittsburgh, PAAboutFor shorter poems I'm experimenting with ballad and In Memoriam stanzas. more..Writing
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