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Song Of The Savior

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Song Of The Savior
A highly spiritual poem that shows both the light and dark sides of the human condition. The poem appears in the e-book, One Shot of Tender, available for purchase at www.digitalpaperbacks.net
[552 words]
Mark Karpinka
Mark Karpinka was born March 23, 1972 in Edmonton, Alberta. He was graduated from the University of Alberta with a degree in Psychology.
[January 2001]
[email protected]
Song Of The Savior
Mark Karpinka

Song of the Savior

By Mark Karpinka

(Poem from the e-book, One Shot of Tender, www.digitalpaperbacks.net)

Jesse Dunne was an Earthly man.

His strong veins bled forest green.

Each timber that he sent downward,

Dunne replaced with a budding seed.

He was the blade of sprouting wood,

And Dunne was the whole harvest feed.

He was a boy from soul to skin.

But the Jacks saw past his green age.

Dunne often told tales of healing.

A fresh stump served as his stage.

The Jacks praised him for their cleansing.

Yet one was too full of dark rage.

Unaware, Dunne ventured forth,

And his daily tasks stayed the same.

Sunrise was spent borrowing fir,

Each noon held rebirth to the plain.

But the hour distinctive to him,

Was the hour the dinner-bell came.

This time was thought of most holy.

The hour was devoted to prayer.

Under his oak Dunne's hands were hope.

He gave thanks to the man in the air.

Each bite that he took after,

Was then blessed by He who gave care.

The remains of the day were halved

With the fauna and with the crew.

Green Dunne gave bread to his flock,

And told tales to the men on pews.

All the men came but one,

Instead his rage grew and grew.

This lumberjack was full of fire.

His smoke choked everything new.

Graced by his Pa, Judson Steinman,

But nicknamed by the men as "Jew".

This rusted crown drew him apart,

One from twelve, and one of the few.

The label of Jew was painful.

The insult bruised poor Judson deep.

It mocked his God and family tree,

It gave nightmares in his sleep.

Each horrid vision would wake him,

And once awake he would cry and weep.

Men hate the sting of the rain,

And Judson was stung with each tear.

He knew he had only one choice,

And this shook his body from fear.

Another teardrop stung savagely.

His plan became ruthlessly clear.

At daybreak his plan did unfold,

As he viewed each part of his game.

He held back the hurt in his heart.

Drowning weeps of spirited rain.

The hours of waiting moved slowly,

But then the dinner bell came.

Judson rose upward from the sound.

He could begin to sing his tune.

Stalking the woods with a purpose.

He found Dunne all alone like the moon.

The Jew rubbed his axe nervously.

The end was nearing so soon.

Right on time, Dunne fell to his knees.

Judson pushed his axe in the air.

Visions of Hell enveloped him,

But he swung while Dunne was in prayer.

Under his oak Dunne's hands held hope

Of ironic dreams for Judson's care.

The sky began to part with ease,

And Judson was in awe of the gates.

Jesse Dunne rose brilliantly

Till he met with his heavenly mates.

Judson knew what his act had done,

And at once he knew his own fate.

He ran past his soul toward his bunk.

Underneath hid a desperate rope.

He tied a knot of forgiveness,

And returned to the spot of failed hope.

He threw one end over a branch.

The Jew hung himself on the oak.

The ground broke apart at a seam,

As poor Judson waved in the wind.

Demons of doom sprouted outward,

And slithered where Dunne had just been.

They laughed at the pitiful man,

And all who continued to sin.

The devils held their booty high,

While they slid back into the ground.

The hate in man shut once more,

The earth closed with a somber sound.

When the crew came to hear Dunne sing,

He never again was found.

The Songs of their Savior were told each day,

One by one resurrecting the log.

They cleansed each other with Dunne's love,

And warned of Judson's black fog.

The crew was forever thankful,

Green Dunne cleared the path to God.


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© 2000 Mark Karpinka
January 2001

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