The Little Samaritan
I understand the heart of the wounded …
Being young I’m also brave, and as childish
as many…moved by curiosity and affections, and self motivated as some … I try to be true to what I can grasp … I feel, and so I suffer…
How can some live in careless security?
Children must endure hearts beating fast!
The sun is down…shadows creeping over the wide, mighty forest
its creatures
crawling…feeding … eating
An echo travels through the wild woods
A threshing machine cuts through the air demanding to be heard.
Harvest time!
Miles, miles—yet so near…
ants carry food
and their dead
to their hills where all will sleep
deep in the anthill…silently, so still!
Always a knit of identity…
Listen to the beginning…
Who is that who comes out
of the wilderness?
An innocent child
She walks unheard
out of the dark forest
onto the highway—
her shadow follows
slowly behind …
her mouth filled with wild strawberries , the fruit
is sweet to her taste… hunger stilled.
In the distance a man comes out of a cornfield …
But where is he going?
He—far from home, a refugee—
holds his right hand, it’s
bleeding, bleeding, dripping blood—
wrapped in a hankerchief.
An owl cries—
And swoops by…
That winged bird of wisdom
Flies high into the dim sky
Flooded with billions, billions of stars,
Shining bright.
The child walks up to him,
takes his left hand and together they walk down the steep hill. She calmy gives …as is given.
Gently speaking to his fears,
she lets him hear her prayer.
They step to the side—
a delivery truck moving fast!
The man lifts his bleeding-hand…
the driver honks…but doesn’t see
and is gone!
The man reaches down and holds the child’s hand tightly.
A monk along the other side of the road passes by
on a bicycle—
as fast as the wind!
Apparently he is late to ring the bells.
The child and the man reach the bottom of the highway
and cross a little river.
The clear water gurgles noisily…
they enter the busy village
“I’lI take you to my mother”
the child says …stepping towards a vision!
They are told to go to the house of a nurse—
a kind woman
who will give a glass of fresh water for each to drink.
She unwraps the bloody hankerchief,
and cleans his wound
by pouring wine over it…
ah, some relief!
The chill of the night becomes less…crickets chirp tirelessly
a pain must cease!
She takes a large orange out of a basket,
speedily peals it and gives it to him.
He breaks off a small slice
and gives it to the child
before devouring the rest.
The nurse asks for the name of the farmer he works for, and writes a note. He puts it into his pocket and smiles at her, and bowing deeply steps out…
Now a hay barn stacked high
with hay, makes a nice bed to rest in! It is his place
to dream…
Dogs bark…
Weeks go by!
The harvest is over…
the village ready for winter… is icy cold!
rain pouring
the roads are in deep mud
creatures and children groaning
as loud as the wild, wild wind…
Mother
serves a chicken noodle soup.
Once the meal finished, time to slumber—
a little pillow
is tucked
under the child’s head…
dry flowers from last summer
smell sweetly
and a deep sleep…. for more than forty winks!
voices whisper
June 2022
