Criminal

A poet weeps- no paper. No pen.
A poet tries to find hope again, in
Cemented room, made Way Back When.

The poet-made-warrior, no tools in hand,
Obeying a burning inner demand,
Writes on the floor, in dirt and in sand.

Words of glory, of shimmering light...
Words that help others endure the fight...
Words of one blind to beautiful sight...

Hurting, I see him scrawl.
He's known such horrors.  He's had so many falls.
He writes, deaf to any man's call.

His cell, adjacent to my own,
Has nothing to comfort, no warmth or plant grown
For one blind and deaf to all good and bad sown.

Too far for me to read what he writes,
I find myself hating my hearing, my sight.
Though in this place is so little light.

The only light that comes to this place
Falls from above on one calm, still face.
He scribbles faster, on some great unseen race.

While I've earned this lot, he deserves to be free.
While my soul is blind, he's earned rights to see.
An angel is he.  A devil is me.

I've committed such crimes: my hands are red.
Broken tears fall for words that I've said.
Much of my own heart is black, hard, and dead.

His heart, much like the purest gold
Has been through fires that make white flame seem cold
His body is young.  His soul, ages old.

Deaf, blind poet still writes on the floor.
Pained, I cannot, his sorrows, ignore.
I reach through cell bars, on knees very sore.

"You can't hear," I whisper. "But I know you fear.
One who loves you is sitting right here.
Brother, your own family is near."

Criminal reaches out in vain.
Poet pauses.  Does he sense this near stain?
Does he, criminal brother, disdain?

He turns slowly.  His face, my face, face.
Then speaking words soft and fragile as lace,
Says, "Can't hear or see. But love I can taste."

"Our spirits are of the same shape and hue
I feel pain that you go through.
I name you brother.
Brother, I love you too."

Adam Scott Campbell

Hope

Bruised and battered and broken inside
Still she moves forward with another stride
Anxious and aching; her enemies lied.
How many heartbreaking moments she's tried?
How many times has her love been denied?
How many pleas to those heartless she's cried?
Her heart swells wide as eternity is wide.

Hurting and halting, having hunger stay,
He lives his life, not knowing sun's ray.
While living much time in the bright light of day
Without hearing so much as one kind stranger's "Hey..."
Never knowing joy of beauty, of children's play,
Wishing of this life, he'd be done today
The blind beggar's hope stays not, today.

They've walked and walked and walked some more.
The going's been rough for these children four.
Thinking no shelter waits in store,
Moving at all while their stomachs are sore
Is the most bitter, and the worst kind of chore.
All those who might help only ignore
These children, whom some small aide implore.

He's looking to numb his conscience, in pain
For all whom he's hurt in pursuit of gain.
Feeling the guilt and feeling the stain,
Feeling not coldness of the pouring rain
He sloshes through the flood in the lane.
He who steals life cannot life disdain
When he sees others approaching, in pain.

Children, still walking and hungry and cold,
Peer through the rain, wishing pain be un-told.
Feeling themselves worn, and tired, and old,
They sense 't won't be long until their legs fold.
Will their sad tale ever be told?
How will any know the trinkets they've sold
To feed empty stomachs, growling so bold?

A dark shadow moves, children don't know,
But whatever it is, towards it they go.
Rain from the clouds is changing to snow.
Sodden and numbed is each finger and toe.
Blood circulation has started to slow.
Coherent thought long since ceased to flow.
What is it toward which these poor children go?

The shadow divides.  Now shadows two,
Beggar blind and woman broke, soaked through,
Approach children poor, hoping to grow hope anew,
Where hope, long past, in their hearts once grew.
Knowing not how, wanting this task to do,
Beggar and woman learn what once they knew.
Cold is easier for many together than few.

Words of comfort man and woman speak
To frozen children so mild and meek.
Tears of all freeze on every cheek
While more than words all souls present seek.
Depression and despair into the air leak.
How can such as these, whom of broke royalty reek
Find hope where none is had by these who seek?

He who steals life sees huddled group ahead.
Compassion from life-thief long past has fled.
Upon such softness, in hate, he leaves tread.
For such he's never, nor would he ever have bled.
Though oft his palms were colored red
Has a kind thought ever entered his head?
Has he ever a helpful word said?

Yet... and yet, seeing them, he takes a new role.
Understanding not this goal,
He feels, living within, a heart and a soul,
And hands over his goods. Broken hearts become whole.
Air near as chilled as that of the southern pole,
He turns, starts to retreat to where'er he'll go
But these grateful souls beg him not to go.

You, Reader, may listen and wonder.
A miracle like this, in snow, rain, and thunder-
Can it have happened in this world torn asunder?
Can a woman so broken lend strength to another?
Can a blind beggar, hopeless, share that kindness with another?
Can a man, heartless, trade dark heart for bright other?
Can you now share Hope's comfort given you by her?

Can you?
Should you?
Would you?
Will you?


beatingheart2

Now I Leap

I have leaped the canyon's rift
Naught but once before.
Hundreds of feet below
View I the canyon floor.
Do I take the leap?
Should I ignore my inner war?

You are strong, she whispers.
Throbs my body's every fiber
In anger raging for its pain.
Knows she not the chasm widening,
Making riskier the gain?

You are strong, she murmurs
Again into my ear,
Though my fear I also hear.
I've crossed this chasm but once
Years, decades ago.
All my Inner ceased to glow.
This, that empathy I might know
For those who also fear.

You are strong, she says again.
I pause, shake my head.
For something that once
Breathed inside my heart
Now long since is dead.
Real love felt, bruised and bled.
Purity lost for words said and not said.
Focus shattered.  Pieces scattered
Across an ocean floor's bed.
Picking them up: tiny morsels fed
To a heart I once thought dead.
A heart changing slow from gray to red:
But what I've lost still is fled.

Behind and before me, the rabble wait
For my fall, spewing hate and anger.
"How dare you give an effort?
How dare you try?
Do you wish to hurt?
How many tears you've cried!
When will enough be enough?
Why do you still care?
Does it not hurt when someone stops
Not to help, but to stare?
How will you jump this chasm?
You are not what you were..."
That I can't win...
That I'll cave in...
That I've too much sin...
My enemies infer.

Again from the edge I turn away
Wishing I'd never seen the light-
Wishing this was not my fight-
I'd never quit before.
I'd not yet lost the war.
But what is now
Was not before.
I, and my heart so ragged...
Can we endure?
I've long lost remembrance of
The feel of being pure.

My foes' cries
Only get louder,
Hope tries to shed her light
Upon this doubter.
The words spoken before:
You are strong
Are again repeated.
Like a festering wound,
Begging healing so greatly needed,
I sense within myself
The touch that Hope has seeded.
In an inner garden that Hope, herself,
Has weeded.
Doing all she can to help me,
Hope has enabled me to see
All that I can and will be.

I've not endured
A decades-deep hell,
Only to relinquish this chance
To do and be well.
I am no voided shell.
I want my tale someone to tell.
I turn back.  I face my fate,
Whatever it may be.
One step, then two steps.
Going faster, so fast.
All enemies I pass
On my way to fate.
Somehow Hope's presence
Grows inside me.
My enemies have lied.
I have true strength inside.

The chasm's edge rushes toward me.
I see not the depths below.
Only my return from the past
To my destiny I now know.
Though the past is done,
My journey just begun,
My victory is already won.
Adrenaline into my veins seeps.
Two steps ahead lies chasm's deep.
Only the good from the past I keep.
Now, I leap.

beatingheart2