Scrimshaw

Scrimshaw 11/18/2011

Men at sea
And men at war
Fashioned art in trenches
And carved messages
On whale bone.

And Monks transcribed scripture
Over many silent centuries
In the depths of darkness
Lonely and secluded.

Some wrote letters
To their families back home
Preserved in memory
Long after they were lost.

There is more than one way
To send a message
And I have gotten a few
Etched into my brain
And burned into memory.

Hidden in caves
And bound into books
The words and lives of the dead
Signed, sealed and forgotten.

Long before we knew
Across endless time
Man yearned to tell
And man yearned to know.

In a cell or in chains
The early Christians wrote
Messages of hope
And words of faith.

As much for the writer
As for the reader
So are heartfelt prayers
A future testimony
Bigger than death.

I too long to know
And I also search for meaning
Trying to capture
A flame in my hands.

Our words make us who we are
And I have read quite a few
Both for the good
And for the bad.

I got them in the night
Intended to mock and frighten
And I guess it’s because I told the truth
But that was all I could do.

I guess they thought I should lie
And be just like them
To suffer and pretend
That it was all my fault.

To cover up for a fraud
Who betrayed every single decency
Texting at funerals
And right in my face.

It took the strength of ten
To not strike them down
But then only because
That is what they wanted.

Vague juvenile threats
Mocking my faith
And gloating
As if love could ever be won
Or lost.

Could anyone think it honorable?
And could anyone think it worthy?
The kind of words that makes you wretch
And force up bile.

Some are indirect
And come form come word of mouth
When they know
Who they will tell.

Trading places and trading faces
And changing names on paper
So you have to see it every day
And know how much you lost.

Sometimes they came in the mail
So I kept them in stacks
Both the kind cards
And the cruel hatred
Just to mock, injure and kill.

Other times it was the call backs
Where they left my name and number
So that I would get messages
And make me feel like trash.

Or an unsolicited e-mail
Selling something you lost
Just a way to destroy
Worse than any death.

But the worst is the false witness
When they blame then on you
Even though you were honest
And never hurt anyone.

I remember letters
And I remember words
From lovers, friends and family
And what each one meant.

She said she knew
That it would end badly
But she just didn't understand
That nothing is ever over
And the end has only begun.

I also have a message
And it is written on the wall
Divided in the sand
Before I even knew.

I may be humble
But my message is strong
Bourne on the wings
Of an iron angel
Spirited and sure.

I do not know how
And I do not know why
But even the broken
Can heal the broken hearted.

Let these words find their home
Let them mean more to them
Than they can for me
A better ending
And a better trust.

Let these words fly
And let them leave a mark
That although the good also die
Truth still reigns.

To send the message
Loud and clear
That we are ready
No matter what shall come
Loyal to the end
Indomitable and true.

Knowing where we are from
And proud of who we are
An ancient legion
Undefeated and alive.