Phoenix and the Scarecrow

12/21/03

 

The scarecrow was but a man

Who looked a lot like "Slash" -

Top hat-n-hair, found not in a garden,

But hanging from gallows in a pile of ash.

 

A little holly in his hatband,

A sign of winters passed,

Gave him spirit as would a clover

Held by some bonnie lass.

 

Bound not by locks,

But by invisible barbed wire,

He was ragged and hopeless;

His situation dire.

 

He'd committed no actual crime,

Only loved unconditionally

In a way that the average eye

Couldn't or refused to see

 

Or understand.

What they mistakened as his sentence

Came to pass

As he prayed, "...Penance..."

 

It started as a crackle,

And then as a snap,

And before one could have told

Came fire from ash.

 

Up, up, up...a spiralling

Whale of a bird came flying

And was birthed of the earth

To save this man the pain of dying.

 

With one swoop the gallows were no more,

And this man was held close to the heart

Of the astounding orange albatross

From this world to forever depart.

 

Left in awe were those

Who had the sense to see,

Left to tremble and to ache

Were those too blind to believe.

 

We are all God's children, seen as souls,

And counted by Him like a hen.

He would upheave every corner to bring home His sheep

And save them from the flesh and the ignorance of man.

 

Our bodies are but vessels

Meant for the same sea.

 

It doesn't mean we all have to see eye to eye...

 

True love just isn't a crime to me.

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[patricia]

I have read some very talented stuff on writers cafe today, but this takes the biscuit! I cant even find the right words to review it...you have somehow managed to pen profound things in a gorgeously light, human and affable way. If only the rest of the world had your understanding! Superb. Love it! thankyou.

[...]

This is a wondrous tale of profound poetic melody :)