Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Poem: “Things Aren’t Always What They First Seem To Be”

Poem: “Things Aren’t Always What They First Seem To Be”
By: Eric Gajewski
From the work, "Fortress of the Soul"

Please enjoy my latest poem.  At the end of this blog is a compilation of some of my poems.

 Press play and listen as you read the poem, Ave Maria!



“Things Aren’t Always What They First Seem To Be”


I cry and the world in return laughed
Spitting, as You endured too, uponst my face in mockery
Leaving this silky web of deceit
I go to meet Thee and Thy Mercy, bringing with, all my misery
For the winter whispers of my past
But thy spring draws me near, hiding, in the Womb of Mary
For amidst my outward trials is this inward choir, O’ heavens beauty!
Friends lost, what else is new, having taken “ridicule” for a name
I stumbled once again to find Thee, in this dark, I call weary
For Hidden in plain sight is Thy Charity, our Answer
As lonely men fumble this great question of life, in dire need
Misunderstood and mislabeled, the story thus is written
As the foxes and rabbits “paint” an eagle as the enemy
And like the Jews fables of past,
I am exposed by the Son’s Light, wherest lies only leave the hearts tomb empty
Yea, it is true, I met my brother on this journey, along destiny’s path
Whom I call suffering…
Pay heed said he, to the souls below, now, no more to know
Who stay lost in self’s eternal frost, in hell forever wandering
Nay, indeed, in this world of greed, we are surrounded
But think it strange? The Virgin Mary too hast silently been building an Army!
So write and weep, O’ sinner!
For now is the time to bury deep all doubt, in the new garden of believing
Redeemed and paid for, but with hearts, due to sin, still sore
We climb these cliffs of Promise for more, eager to knock on thy door
With arms spread wide in faith and hope ready to claim the victr’y
O’ Face Divine painted high in these skies which speak and say “get to know Me”
Of which I reply in eagle cry, “What good is food in thy Presence alone”
“What need, in thy Gaze, is there of sleep?”
Nay, an eagle retreats silently for a season into solitude’s Great Tree
Before his time comes to leap...
Emerging, as grace falls, down upon the blind, so as to bring this gift to see
For men in retrospect shall shed tears of grief
Because the things they once thought were….
Only turn out different and….
Aren’t always, in the end, what they first seem to be….
  



Here are some of my other poems. 
I hope you enjoy #theeagle