I wrote Journey of a Sinner in 2001, and in 2004 it was chosen as the 1st place winner in the Poetry of Today Christian poetry contest. The length prohibits me from submitting it for publication, so I decided to share it here. I hope you enjoy it.
JOURNEY OF A SINNER
A lone man traveled down a dark and deserted road
In a worn and weathered gown, the remnants of a robe.
His features seemed so slight, his age advancing to death’s door;
He had faced many nights and would not see many more.
His hand rested atop a long and battered sword,
Testament to wars fought with valor for his lord.
And on his brow a scar, pale in the full moon light,
Gave hint to days by far more harsh than this cold night.
Hunger gnawed his body and never left his thoughts,
But he knew that in his life it was paled by a bigger drought.
The many years of death and slaughter had begun to take their toll
And bore a hole straight through his heart to the center of his soul.
All the battles he had waged without fear or hesitance
Never prepared him for this time of facing eternity’s presence.
For days he had been wandering, seeking a peaceful place
On which to rest his heavy burdens and wait for death’s embrace.
But no sight, as yet, had brought that stir he longed for in his heart –
A hint that all would be well and the end worth the start.
With darkness closing in and the moon appearing overhead,
His eyes gazed upward, his steps faltered, and his soul filled with dread.
With the last of his strength, he shouted, “Is there no rest for an old man?
I have served my time, defended my king, brought peace to all the land!
I have been honored at court; the bards sing praises to my name.
The fields of death were not my choosing; I am not to blame!
The spoils of war made me a rich man, built me a castle of stone.
But in my last days a tormented soul brings me here to die alone!”
Too weak to go farther, he laid down his sword, the scabbard a pillow of sorts,
And closed his eyes, fighting back tears, ashamed of his sudden remorse.
Through the dust of the road he stared ahead, searching for the proof
That his time on earth had not been wasted, but still it seemed aloof.
And then, the tiniest flicker, a flame? Could it be?
He saw the faint orange glow but still wondered, should he believe?
The longer he watched, the brighter it grew, and suddenly he dared
To stand slowly, hoping against hope, his loneliness had been spared.
He gathered his sword, straightened his robe, and started toward the light,
His heart leaping, willing his body not to shiver against the cold night. (more…)