Poem: The Madman Who Found God

A cold October

In the 14th century

Sat a madman

At his cedar desk

With a quill pen.

Staring out

His Gothic window

He began to curse and sin.

Yelling at barren

Weeping willows

While the rain

Tapped the roof.

He threw his ink

And feathery pillows

Yelling: God, show me proof!

The black ink dripped

Unto the floor

He began to pull out

His curly white hair.

He was so mad

He began to roar

Shouting:

“This is not fair!

“This is not fair!”

You sent a plague of death

My friends are in despair

I can’t continually

Hold my breath

If I don’t know

Whether you

Are there!

So I write on

This vellum piece

I write! I write! I write!

As my rage continues

To increase

Until you show me

Your brilliant light.

There was no response back.

Only the howling

Of the wind.

The Madman

Went on

The attack

His fingers began

To bend.

He cracked his knuckles

And drew his ink

For hours he wrote

Without a blink:

If you only knew

Sue my friend

Had a baby due

You would be mad too!

My dearest uncle

Lost a daughter at two

You would be mad too!

God of heaven

Do you care

The turmoil

We are going through?

We mourn all day

In dismay

Ring around the rosy

Pockets full of posey

Ashes to ashes

We all fall down.

After the madman

finished His tirade

He knelt down and prayed.

O God please forgive me.

I am angry as you can see.

My boils burn.

My body shakes.

My bones ache.

But I also yearn

For your healing hand.

In that moment

The willows laughed.

The sun peeked

through the dark clouds.

Crows turned into doves.

Shadows ran away

Barren land became fertile.

The madman saw heaven open.

He dropped his quill pen and said:

I am no longer a madman

But a saved man

In your marvelous plan.

Thank you God.

For this is not the end.

© Chad Damitz, 2020