An Echo in the Fields
by ErtandberniThe stage is set.
Shadows dance on a field of black and green under a restless sky.
Anxious leaves flutter in the wind; spinning, rising, diving
Onto fearful blades of grass.
Light, precious light, ever waning
As deadly darkness creeps, stalks, encircles and mocks
A lowly, broken band - an old and frightened clan -
That hastens through the valley.
Some hold candles, others shields, others symbols,
But all fear;
While the gloom swells with merciless pride,
And an icy silence speaks of their demise.
Someone screams and falls; others lose their wits.
Some only weep, looking down,
Staring at the ground: they see only their graves.
Others don't even see at all.
So the shadows move in as they laugh.
No mirth, only death, marks that hateful cackle.
They see a people weakened with forgetfulness
And a race now ready for its fall.
But then atop a hill blades of grass are enkindled.
Bright green they shine, as small flowers burst into a song of color.
Crippled men look towards the mountains and a figure rushes forth
Frantically waving joyful light.
His raiment is all white, he comes in haste
As shadows move away but don't relinquish their attack.
And yet the men no longer crawl, but stand.
For the pilgrim's voice now echoes in the fields,
And he has said
"Be not afraid!"
Ioannes Paulus II, the sound of your voice in this field of sorrows will be missed but not forgotten. The echoes of your call linger on - and grow. Now we know we can stand. Now we know we can fight the good fight until we reach the Home on the other side of the mountains, where surely the King now greets you, His faithful servant, with the warm embrace of Imperishable Love. God bless you, Holy Father. Thank you, thank you so much.
posted by ertandberni @ 1:31 AM
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