Advent - Day 2
PLEASE read foreward to Advent - Day 1. Any further derailments will result in the comments being closed for all advent posts. Thanks!
Poem submitted and written by reader Kim Siever
He clasped the coal, still glowing red, from off his wooden floor
And placed it back within the flame. A knock was at his door.
T’was dark outside and very late, and snow fell thick and hard.
He knew not of a single soul who’d trek across his yard.
He cautiously stood from his knees and crept across the room.
Unsure who waited there outside beneath the crescent moon.
His hand reached out, then paused a bit, then grabbed the metal latch.
Pulling down, familiar creaks, and then the lock did catch.
Before his face stood weary thin, a man so dark and frail.
His bony hands, chapped and raw, upon the iron rail.
His clothes were thin, ripped and worn. No hat was on his head.
T’was in his hand, upside down, a dark and dirty red.
His eyes looked back, dark and wide, and shadowed from the light.
His hair was long and full of knots and p’thetic to the sight.
His bearded chin began to quake; parched lips began to part.
His words were short and almost dead, but shot straight to the heart.
He brought him in and sat him down upon a wooden chest.
The man obliged, moving slow, grateful for the rest.
The stranger’s boots were taken off to dry beside the fire.
His feet were bare, no socks in sight, and sore and wet and tired.
A blanket fell, thick and dry, upon his crooked back.
A plastic tub soaked his feet, misshapen and quite cracked.
In a short time, a platter sat upon his feeble lap.
With bread and cheese — an apple too — and water from the tap.
When he was done, he was led across the narrow hall
To a spare room, with a made bed, and a mirror on the wall.
The mattress firm, the blankets warm wrapped around himself.
And as he closed his heavy eyes, he glanced toward a shelf.
When the host awoke that morn and rose onto the floor
He saw the boots were now long gone; his guest was, too, no more.
The bed was made, the covers tight; a book lay there on top.
He lifted it, glanced the page and then his eyes did stop.
He saw the words from long ago describe what he had done.
He saw a man in need of care and brought him in his home.
And now the words he read just then caused guilt and pain, regret.
For he had paused and questioned why to help this stranger yet.
Very Nice. Thank you Kim…
Comment by Lula O — December 2, 2008 @ 7:43 am
Wonderful poem. Thanks for sharing. It also reminds me of “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief” (particularly verse 4). I have always loved the words to that hymn and find it particularly meaningful during this time of year.
Comment by Stephanie — December 2, 2008 @ 8:31 am
Noel.
Comment by Eris — December 2, 2008 @ 12:59 pm
Beautiful. Thanks for sharing this.
Comment by Lorian — December 2, 2008 @ 1:16 pm
Kim, thank you. That was powerful.
Comment by Numi — December 2, 2008 @ 1:33 pm
Kim,
Just lovely. Thanks!
Comment by Violet — December 2, 2008 @ 2:45 pm
Merry Christmas! Have a happy heaping helping of guilt, pain and regret in return for your selfless, Christ-centered service!
Comment by Beijing — December 2, 2008 @ 7:20 pm
#7)
Is someone forcing you to participate in this Advent calender thing? Perhaps you should stick to the Atheist sites. Perhaps you’ll feel less ‘guilt’ there.
The needles you keep trying to poke in here aren’t sticking. Sorry.
And Kim, once again. Excellent poem. You have talent.
Comment by Lula O — December 2, 2008 @ 8:21 pm
Thanks for this, Kim. It is beautiful.
Comment by Ray — December 2, 2008 @ 8:56 pm
Of course no one is forcing me to participate. Normally I enjoy FMH very much, primarily because so many of the posts here are about accepting the good things in Mormonism while rejecting the excessive guilt and shame - freeing ourselves from the idea that we have to emulate some ideal Mormon woman who doesn’t exist, making room for Mormons with differing views, supporting each other in various “non-traditional” but still totally worthy choices - from public breastfeeding to working outside the home, etc. You can see from my long comment history here that I’m actually a longtime supporter of the site.
I will not stick to atheist sites. I’m not an atheist.
I do not want to take Christ out of Christmas. I only want to take the guilt out of Christmas. Can you celebrate Christ without turning it into a festival of Guilt? I think you can, but I’d really like to see it.
FMH should be the one place where women feel free to openly reject the Parade of Guilt that so often accompanies the holidays.
Comment by Beijing — December 2, 2008 @ 9:07 pm
I am not sure you understand the poem Beijing. Maybe you should read it again. It wasn’t that he felt guilty for helping him it was that he felt guilty for hesitating to help him, which, happens to us all, and if we can remember to be more like Him and less worried about looking like her, we might, we just might, be better off.
Thanks for the poem. It was beautiful.
Oh, and Beijing, did you submit anything? Just curious.
Comment by Sunshine — December 2, 2008 @ 10:13 pm
I honestly don’t understand why these reminders about the true meaning of Christmas–whether you consider that meaning to be Christ, or just the concepts of peace, goodwill, and love–are considered negative. I would think more guilt and anxiety arise from the commercialism: Did I get enough? Will they like it? Did I miss anyone/thing? Will they be disappointed that they didn’t get X, Y, and Z? I find that focusing on the core of Christmas allows me more peace, more freedom, and less stress. A Christ-centered Christmas is liberating, not guilt-inducing.
Comment by Derek — December 2, 2008 @ 10:46 pm
Yes, I did not get the impression Beijing had a negative motive in her post. I think that the turn of phrase used in that stanza of the poem was a little obscure. I read it over two or three times to make sure I was following the intent of the poet. I can see where someone might misunderstand.
It seems to me that accusing someone of being an atheist because they question a poem is a bit similar to the thing requested by the blog rules about not questioning other’s… what was it? Righteousness? I don’t see anything atheistic or “unrighteous” about Beijing’s comment. Just a difference in understanding of what the poet was saying.
Comment by Lorian — December 3, 2008 @ 1:20 am
Is guilt always a bad thing? Feeling guilt tells us that something is wrong - something needs to be corrected - and it moves us to action and repentance. Unnecessary guilt is a different beast entirely.
Is feeling guilt over having paused to consider helping another appropriate? Is feeling shame because you know you could have done better wrong? Or does it serve its purpose of teaching that next time you’ll do something different?
Beijing, I get your point about the “excessive guilt”, but that doesn’t mean that any guilt is excessive.
Comment by Stephanie — December 3, 2008 @ 1:39 am
The man felt guilt and regret because he considered not helping the man in need (and it never says why he paused - was he too tired? too poor? afraid of being robbed?). When I read it, I realized that I have paused before helping others. It does cause me a bit of pain, regret, guilt to realize that. Is that really wrong? It means that I am not perfect in my service of others. What I choose to do with that determines whether or not I use that guilt constructively. I can choose now to be more willing to help others, and to sacrifice more. Or, I can choose to sit and wallow in self-pity over how un-Christlike and uncharitable I am. If I choose the latter, it doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with the poem - just with me.
Comment by Stephanie — December 3, 2008 @ 1:47 am
I just read it again, and it does indicate that he paused more out of self-preservation - the same reason I pause a lot (and sometimes don’t give service).
Comment by Stephanie — December 3, 2008 @ 1:50 am
Thanks for your thoughts, everyone.
Comment by Kim Siever — December 3, 2008 @ 7:35 am
I think it takes a lot of courage to put something out there that so obviously comes from the heart. Though perhaps not so much courage when there is so much talent! Thanks for being courageous about sharing your talent.
Comment by TXgirl — December 3, 2008 @ 10:41 am
It was a beautifully formulated poem, Kim. Thank you for sharing it.
Comment by Cassie — December 3, 2008 @ 11:05 am