Notes Of Destiny 7
(Song Of Healing)
This poem is from the point of view of Windy Bog.
I took him into the laundry shed,
Where he’d live for now.
He hadn’t said a word to us
Since we three left town.
No thank you’s or smiles,
Perhaps he was a mute.
Or perhaps he’d lived in dire straights,
Eventually we’d learn his roots.
For now he needed comfort.
A simple, happy life.
I wouldn’t make him do chores for a while.
He deserved time off from his fights.
Windy: “I really hope you like it here.”
I said while bandaging his arm,
“We have a lot of hands that make light work.
And it’s not like we run a farm.”
He nodded without any emotion,
His mind was in some other place.
Windy: “You are not a slave anymore.”
I reached up and touched his face.
“We all do our share to run this place.
But for now you’ll heal and rest.
You were very fortunate I saw you.
In fact, I’d say you’re blessed.”
I paused… And a smile came across my face.
Windy: “I know just what I’ll do!
Until you supply me with a name of your own,
That is what I shall call you!
Blessed, I hope you enjoy your stay!”
I smiled and hugged him like a net.
But winter still approached us both.
And Blessed was not healed yet…
Blessed’ worst injury
Had been a blow to his head.
And there were many times it could have stolen him.
Many times he should have been dead.
Seizures and epilepsy,
Gripped him every week.
And in the two months he stayed in my care,
He never found the tongue to speak.
Then one wretched winter day,
frostbitten with the cold,
His seizures took him once again,
And I prayed. For he was worth more to me than gold.
I had a sense this would be the last time,
If he lived or if he died.
And there was nothing I could do to tip the scale.
So while holding his wrist, I cried.
To comfort him, and myself,
I sang my favorite song.
The one The Bard sang of the Winged People,
For Blessed, I had to be strong.
Windy: “From the heights of Kashlawn Spier,
We beg you all, do not fear.
This song you live is written out.
Each line, each note. Have no doubt.
The Great Songwriter gave us this view,
And we can’t see everything.
But this much we choose,
To believe in his song, as he wrote it.
No change can change it.
Not one little bit.”
His thrashing slowly quieted.
And then his body dropped.
He took a deep breath and casually,
It all came to a stop,
Leaving his peaceful breathing,
As music to my ears.
I thanked Songwriter quietly,
For quelling all my fears.
Hi I’m Joshua, and I’m resurrecting Epic Poetry for modern nerds like you! Come join me at JoshuaDavidLing.com or just about anywhere on social media!
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