Strange disciple
Wednesday, March 25, 2009 at 03:25PM Held no creed
Believed in what he could believe
Bending like a flaxen reed.
Blessing where blessing lacked
Healed heavy souls and broken-backed.
Never knew the master's gaze
Fought with his men
Who thought they had the rights back then
Not recognising whom they praised.
Spent his long days doing good
Caring, mending, defending
Putting heart in heartless places
Winning some, losing more
Never keeping score.
Now buried with a single stone
By half-men from among the tombs
Who knew a saint by smell alone
And waited for the carnival to leave
Then carved his name and beat their breast
Full men at their very best.
Who was that man, he'd often thought
Who threw the fire that he had caught?

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