The Heap
The stench of charred flesh was revolting and pungent,
He lifted his arm to the pain in his head.
Swollen and sticky, an eyelid peeled open,
Jon Marcus, alive, in the Heap of the Dead.
How many people were buried beneath him?
Were any still living? If so, not for long…
The silence induced an emotion of terror,
The fear in his heart was surprisingly strong.
The Dung Heap, they’d called it, the mountain of refuse,
The channel for sewage, repurposed a grave,
Sorrow engulfed him to find this the tribute,
To so many soldiers so noble and brave.
Any Kingdom future, grim. The fault, he knew, belonged to him.
The wagons were coming… they pulled down the road,
Backed up to the Dung Heap and tossed out their load,
Of people! Their bodies were broken and red.
The sinister ravens sang songs overhead…
“Woe to the fellow, the arrogant man,
The mighty, great Marcus is thrown in the Heap,
The tower has toppled, the Kingdom has fallen,
The fields have been ravished. There’s nothing to reap.”
“Woe, it is over! No hope for the fool.
You won’t be forgiven for all that you’ve done.
There’s no restoration, betrayer of love.
The Kingdom was bested. The enemy won!”
“Woe,” came the cry from the birds in the sky,
With looming, black shadows they circled his head,
Round and around, oh, the shadows drew nearer,
The lone, living soul in the Heap of the Dead.
Climbing up people, the way of a spider,
Slithering, silent, the way of a snake,
The Hiss found the ear of the fallen Jon Marc,
“Get up, mighty man. It was just a mistake.
And now, you know better- this has to be true.
Start over, start over, start over, anew.”
Lying there, broken, a feast for the birds,
Piercing his heart with the woes of their words,
“Get up and run, man! You don’t deserve this…”
And Jonathan Marcus agreed with the Hiss.
He didn’t deserve it, for he’d done his best.
Unfairly assigned such a difficult test,
And other men failed. It is sad, but it’s true.
“If I can just run, I can start again, new.”
Seek for yourself a washing: a way of releasing the past,
Discover a happy sensation, and trust the sensation to last,
Focus on every provision, careful to list every need,
Write out a new set of standards and promise to live by the creed.
Find a new group of companions, better than those that you knew,
Far more accepting, and far less rejecting, and honestly sharing your view.
And leave the Kingdom and the Way,
And leave the dying in the Heap,
And run from every love you’ve known,
And wonder why it’s hard to sleep.
Start anew??? Oh, Sure, you can,
Start again and call new,
But you will find the same Old Man,
Living at the heart of you.
The sun rose above to a pinnacle height, drying and cracking the blood on his face,
Flipping his body, the rolled down the Heap,
the mountain reflecting the Kingdom disgrace,
Then, at the bottom, he pushed to his feet- he chose a direction, the Hiss giving hints…
And took to a path leading out of the Kingdom,
away from the Covenant King and the Prince.
Climbing down bodies the way of a spider,
Slithering down with a feeling of bliss,
Moving Jon Marcus with just a suggestion,
“Don’t give another thought to this,” ……………………….so said the speaker of the Hiss.