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My Angel Wept On Christmas Eve

Poem by: Graeme Montrose

Summary

This poem was inspired by a painting which I saw online. It was a painting from a true incident that had happened to the artist, though not the same one that I now pen here. This is just a poem inspired by the picture, not the real incident.

Content

Submitted: October 25, 2010

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Content

Submitted: October 25, 2010

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My Angel Wept
 
What motivates our choices one may ask?
Why do we do what we do, one may wonder?
 
Oft there are things I would do but do not,
Things I would not but do, why? Why?
 
There are regrets not few in life,
They come back faithfully to haunt.
 
It was cold the wind chilled my soul,
As I trod homeward bound!
 
So hear, now listen to this tale,
As I walked home one night,
 
It was a cold, yes frosty road,
The street was, oh so still.
 
I saw a body lying there,
I looked away at once.
 
Others before and after me,
They quickly trod on by.
 
Yet some did stop to quickly look,
But then they moved on by.
 
Some they looked the other way,
While some pretended not to see.
 
But none did stop to lend a hand,
I felt my soul cry out.
 
My angel spoke to me I knew.
She told me to turn and help.
 
To lend a helping hand to him,
I walked yet faster on.
 
For fear it filled my heart,
Selfishness and pride took root.
 
They chose what I would do that night,
Or did they hold full sway?
 
Wait my heart again cried out,
My angel spoke within.
 
What yet if that were you who lay,
So cold and still one night.
 
I stopped and slowly walked on back
I saw others pass him by.
 
My soul cried out to stop,
To lend a helping hand!
 
Yet worry, fear and dread stood strong,
I feared what I may find.
 
But still my weeping angel cried,
She nudged me ever near.
 
I reached my hand to touch and see,
Was he dead or just asleep?
 
Did sickness hold him stiff and still?
Or had life passed from him?
 
No coat he had, nor gloves nor scarf,
 A shoe was missing too.
 
A bare foot turning blue with cold,
His thin hoodie on his head,
 
I looked around some passed on by,
Ignoring me and him!
 
One looked at me with scorn then fear
She quickly hurried by.
 
Should I now stoop and lend a hand?
Should I shake of life’s dreads?
 
Or should I turn and walk away,
As other seemed to do,
 
My angel cried within my soul,
She begged me not to leave.
 
To lend a hand and help this one
Yes that was right to do.
 
The street was quite getting dark
The shadows bespoke fear.
 
What if he was victim of some muggers lurking near?
What if they jumped on me as well?
 
What if like him I’d soon now be?
These thoughts did flicker in my brain.
 
These fears did speak to me,
What if he’s dead and passed all help,
 
Or if he’s ill beyond all help
The police you’d have to see.
 
Look at the time it is so late,
You have your work to go,
 
Early you will need to leave,
This is not your pressing need.
 
Just turn and leave,
Just wander off, no one really cares.
 
But still my soul did question me.
The angel wept and cried.
 
A picture then did come to me from out of Holy Books,
The Good Samaritan so clear,
 
To lend a hand was right.
And so I knelt down by the lad.
 
I felt his pulse, he lived,
I took my jacket and wrapped him,
 
Then called upon my phone,
An ambulance, the police too!
 
Oh yes it took some time from me,
Oh yes I came home late,
 
But yet the inner glow of soul,
The feelings that now bloomed.
 
I’d done what’s right,
I lent the hand,
 
I showed true love and care,
My angel smiled and comforted me.
 
And so it was I walked on home,
Merrily I did hum,
 
I did the right thing yes I had,
I helped a needy soul.
 
 
 


© Copyright 2016 Graeme Montrose. All rights reserved.

My Angel Wept On Christmas Eve

Status: Finished

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Summary

This poem was inspired by a painting which I saw online. It was a painting from a true incident that had happened to the artist, though not the same one that I now pen here. This is just a poem inspired by the picture, not the real incident.

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