this is a quickly written work in progress. any suggestions are welcome. i just jotted it down this weekend and my brother Kanaan kind of liked it, so i figured it couldn't be all that bad. he's got some taste in such things. anyhow, as far as the last little triplet, i couldn't let it go by without giving props to Big Ty Antkowiak for telling me that Aslan is on the move while i shoveled snow early thursday morning. kinda made my day, and definitely made this poem.
i am an undertaker, shoveling away the dead.
our enemy, our lawless queen of ice and cold
is falling fast, and falling faster into the pit I dig.
Her icy east wind cannot stop my work
our king has come, though he is not here yet,
his breath melts the ice, his eyes warm the sun
i scrape away her minions' bones, i toss them
under the saplings that eat them and grow strong.
i stand ankle deep in my enemies' blood,
and wonder if my hands will ever be warm again.
the king will warm them when he comes, when he
drives away usurpers and warms us all again.
i am a feeble man, i only shovel snow. weak in body,
weak in mind, small in heart, and small in grace,
yet such as i do contend with spirits, giants,
drakes, and monsters and bury the Enemy Death.
our King will come, has come, is now coming,
and in His mouth a sword to strike down the evil one.
these things i think when, while i shovel winter
off the sidewalks, one of our giants picks me up,
and roars with joy that aslan is on the move.
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