What Is It All For - a poem

A place behind our house
had a million trails, exaggerated
of course the number was far smaller
but to imagination of childhood wonder
infinite travels were permissible
through winding's of tower redwood,
that were actually pine, but allowed
to be mighty and strong, in mind,
if mind would permit.

Strongest mind belonged to children
able to bring in everything from infinity
across time and space, safe and sound
in wonderment in shape of innocence
and the world was mighty and full of possibility
for little did young know the mighty
roar of injustices happening as history
was happening for childhood was happening
in back trails of a almost-suburban, 
not-quite-country home.

Jesus loved all, looked out especially for children
Sunday School sermons of puppets, skits,
stories told lightly, told mightily of everlasting
power of Jesus. Mind soaked it up,
drank it down, took communion with power,
and willfulness that they wanted,
and wondered how beautiful a world
it could be.

The everlasting promise of His good name,
was hard to sell as child got bigger,
contradictions in human suffering,
and lies of political opponents cast
harshness to a wonderful light, but so many
who taught did not see this contradiction,
did not see benevolent Lord this way,
though they said it with words, encouraged
they did the judgement of others,
but judged everyone all the same.

Child going into manhood, told
to worry about end journey, that so trivial
were worries of man that they should not bear
a thought. Sacrifices were made to feeding
some poor, and young man wondered
why it was acceptable to abandoned
neighbors for a chance to fund a TV
broadcast. So, one of many doubts 
planted, and he was rebuked for doubting.

How harsh it is, and disastrous, to grasp
so hard to love of Jesus to see it disparaged
by people who taught in favor of a clique, 
a club, exclusive, step out of line, forgiveness
was not reserved for you, and they cast so many
stones.

Boy had never been too bad as child,
not terrible as teen. He had has his share
of wrong-doing all told, but he stayed free
of trouble. And always his extended members
of family tree judged him, doubted him, 
mocked him, belittled him. And always his
church family judged him, doubted him,
mocked him, belittled him. And for what?

The man lived by Jesus' principles all his life,
he knew they'd shaped his morality view,
and yet when he wanted to wrap arms
and declare love for all his brothers,
the Church decried it, extended family
rebuked it. 

The man had talked back, swore, had a left
leaning world view, that's how they labeled
it but he thought he just followed that Jesus
philosophy of loving thy neighbor as they self.
He thought, if hell awaited a sinner, why make
it hell on Earth. And he knew action, and perseverance
were needed, even if prayers were all good.

With only support for his momma, his father,
brothers, and two sisters one that was in-law
he took it upon himself to better himself. Trying
to grow, and check what prejudices were accidentally
put upon him. He took lessons of love and forgiveness
his mother taught him, and proud hard work his
father top him. He kept going, and tried to treat
everyone with respect.

In his work, they had said being nice to employees
wasn't enough, you weren't there to be their friends,
and yet when he was placed into a position of authority
he both worked harder and prouder, and friendly toward
all and he was beloved by most of his peers.
Respect was key, kindness was working.

He learned, he returned to school, grew up, expanded
his skills and mind. And amidst all that a vile
beast slept inside the white house, spewing
words of hate, and he found it unforgivable,
not because of political reasons, but because
of the blatant evil it represented, and he sounded
alarm amongst his family, and to his surprise
some supported the beast, and used Jesus
to reason why.

Jesus and this beast would never fit together.
Like a square peg trying to go into a round hole,
one spoke selflessness, the other selfishness,
one said turn the other cheek, the other said use your fists,
glorified the opportunity for violent retribution
the beast did, and Jesus was implemented, again,
in some kind of holy war.

How hard it is to have faith shattered,
dashed upon the rock again and again,
and how hard it is to sound the alarm
and have no one heed the flashers.
As they acted like insects in the night,
attracted to a light leading them to a trap.

How hard it is to be shattered. And how thirsty,
am I to be repaired.