In Bait

Once there was a stranger

Who knew not any plan

A wanderer sore  with none for fare

With none as guide a hand

 

He walked  a step but slipped

Down the shadowy deep

A blind nomad  with none to pick

With none to  pull  him quick

 

Strange was his lone despair

Stranger than he’s  been long

Within  ‘twas known  no man’s to bear

Within a groan too strong

 

For  strangely, did he, knew

Too well from life grown past

A Man, stranger in His world too

With none His faith to grasp

 

A light! Alas! ‘twas seen

A light not from  within

A call so high and yet so sweet

A call without the scene

 

That stranger-Man  more strange

Than the stranger he was

Has walked a step so steep but gained

A foot to hold him fast

 

So strange a story mere

Yet known of every ear

That longed to hear the lightly cheer

The Stranger lone owns dear

 

So strange no more the tale

Of what you truly are

A wanderer sore with none to bail

With  none to free the bars

 

The strangest thing though ‘s that

The Stranger stands on wait

To free you once you own up fast

The  wanderer you’re in bait.

 

 

This poem was first published in The Epistle, Vol.1, Issue 2, August 2012.