His hands held the Bible close
As he stepped closer to the lodge,
His stride large and hasty,
Away from the quarreling house.
Once the windows lost their view of him
His stride dramatically slowed
Till as he walked farther away
His feet became heavier and heavier,
The weight of his life pressing down
And leaving its mark in the soil.
His hands fell limp at his sides,
The Word nigh slipping from their grasp;
Strength left his bones and the noble figure bowed,
The dew of heaven upon his brow
And drizzling gently from his eyes.

The body stiffened, a hand flying to its face-
But then the frame fell as though melting,
Giving in to the great weight that afflicts all men.
The flood now loosed freely came,
unbarred by the stubborn wall of his mind;
His body ached as though feeling now the weight
That pressed down upon his soul.

Moments passed in the moist dirt and cutting grass,
Till he arose and looked around,
Peeking around like the sun in the morning.
His arms pushed him up and turned him around,
To gaze at the sun of the evening.
Purple puffs of rain and orange blazing sun
And heaven in blue and pink was covered
The glowing radiance striking him silent.
The sun caressed his lined and stained face
And dried the salty moisture from him.

He looked around as though first seeing
The beauty of the world around him.
A tiny meadow flower perked up in its release,
As the footprint lifted its weight.
Suddenly millions stirred around him,
Waving welcome with the grass;
And he choked on tears and surprise
As he saw the Baby Blue Eyes for the first time.
They swayed him over to a book on the ground-
His Bible, fallen open from its fall.

'Bless the LORD, O my soul,
And all that is within me, bless His holy name.'
He glanced up at the sky-
'Bless the LORD, O my soul,
And forget none of His benefits;'
His gaze wandered, taking in the flowers-
'Who pardons all your iniquities,
Who heals all your diseases;'
His bones were strong, his body warm-
'Who redeems your life from the pit,
Who crowns you with lovingkindness and compassion;'
—Thank You, Lord, for Your compassion to me—
'Who satisfies your years with good things,
So that your youth is renewed like the eagle.'
—Though I am undeserving.—

He lay back in the grass, beginning to relax,
Eyes far away, Bible in his hands;
Unaware of a door slamming,
Of smaller feet running through the grass;
Until a little voice angrily summoned him
To deal vengeance against a stolen toy.
He sighed irritatedly, the moment broken
And his silence stolen;
Sweeter to him were moments of quiet
Than the precious child God gifted.

'Who pardons all your iniquities...'
—Forgive me, Lord, for this impatience—
'...Who satisfies your years with good things...'
—May I have the right attitude about all—
'So that your youth is renewed like the eagle.'
A bird soared above.

-Anne B. Caitlin