St Christopher stood seven foot five.
Seeker of servanthood; serving a King or following the Devil,
until he was found by a Child working
the dangerous river
bearing the travelers from side to side
sometimes on a terrifying journey.
Bearing the Child seemed so simple, so light
yet barely was the saint able to move between the shores
hardly could he lift those strong legs
to carry this traveler.
Shoulders bent, neck in pain, arms worn out
aching as he strode from shore to shore.
The child emerging from this hazardous journey
spoke of the weight on Christopher’s shoulders;
“The weight of the world from the Creator of the
World,” in response to Christopher’s lament
feeling as if he were bearing the weight
of the world.
Christ weights me down; wears me out,
sucks all my energy out from the struggle
of living life as a follower of the Child,
a curious and hopeful student
of this God-created world.
Sometimes madness wears my thoughts like a coat
covering me with the temptation of
things and wealth and amusement
turning me aside from a focused following.
Weighed down by Christ; trying to discover
ways to face society’s caged consciousness,
herd mentality (a la Kierkegaard) thoughts
in hypnotic trances that
fail my heart, often suffocating my desire
to be human
into robot-like playing with gadgets,
thinking of buying, buying, buying.
Christ weights me down
when all the minor notes, lesser gods
singing to me create illusions which I often mistake for truth.
Weighed down, deep down, by oppressive attention
and faulty perceptions enslaved into seeing reality or
what appears for reality until the
Child climbs across my shoulders and back
and journeys with me, travels
across the baptizing-stream throughout my lifetime
making reality hard and enabling the mud
to sift between my toes and it’s earth crust
and my ash to combine
transforming my servanthood
from the weightlessness of air to the weight of glory.
Richard W Smith
February 15, 2011
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