It’s not easy to see beauty in a “crucified world”. Is there really beauty around us: despite the immanent strife, pain, and death we all face? And if there is, how can we be more open to it? How can we let it guide us? Jacob Fiott explores all this (and more) in his recently penned poem, “In search of Beauty”.
In Search of Beauty
I look out the window
to see a restless night.
I close my eyes, so that I might for a while
escape the pain behind me.
There sat he
news on the telly.
He’d been on the news
some days ago.
Run over by a reckless driver.
Hit and run. Both legs mangled.
Now the news spoke
of ground shattering war,
lives taken, families scattered.
Brother deceiving brother.
A world in chaos.
And in this moment of despair,
in a world with no rhyme or reason,
I turn my face upwards towards the stars
and silently scream
“Where is my God?”
And I think to myself,
why do I expect to find God in hell?
What is this place we call our own
if not a man-made hell?
Here in the realm in which we tread,
in which we’ve spread our corruption,
we have silenced Heaven’s bell; for we no longer seek
it’s guiding toll, threw away the Holy Bread.
Our god is born from self-deception.
Greed and power-lust are its holy word.
We are a world of modern-day Mammonites.
The devil calls,
‘Come to me and I’ll reward ye
Wealth, power, all the world’s comforts shall serve ye…..if simply
Ye kneel before ”me.”
Tempted with an easy life,
a life of grazing on coin, engorged with recognition and fame
we’ve thrown our soul onto the pyre,
sold our soul to the devil’s fire.
So I clutch the crucifix hanging from my neck
pleading for a sign that God is listening.
But all I hear, in this darkened night, is the street below, brimming
with the desperate vibrations of a technological world,
a world desperate to make gods from men.
I squeeze my eyes, my mind swirls with thought.
What prayer ought I say?
What words may this mouth of a blasphemer speak?
I try to croak out a plea for help,
but the weight of my sins seems to pull the prayer into deep abyss
leaving in its wake a snake-like silence seemingly solid and unbreakable.
Until to my surprise,
through that deep solid silence,
A voice breaks in song.
It was a simple song
sweetly sung, its sound softly soaring and at times, falling.
Its simplicity seemed to lure me.
I lean back towards the song
and before long,
I can make out the words
constructing a song of praise
to Him who made all.
Slowly my eyes open, I turn round,
and there before me sits the singer,
“How?”, “how can you find the words to sing
of beauty, in a world so sick without
love, a world so drenched in darkness and sin?”
A smile shined from his face and he said
“Finding the words is no hard feat,
when beauty is all around.
You just have to learn to see”.
My father used say;
“how does the sparrow fly so free
despite all that threatens it?
It flies because it knows
that beauty always grows
taller than terror.
It knows it can find shelter
in the trees that tower,
and find peace
among the smallest flowers.
Despite all that hunts it,
the sparrow never gives in.
And so must we never give up
just because of sin.
Just because there’s death
does not mean there’s no life.
There is still love
despite the strife.
The loving parent
who adores the child,
the patient teacher
who nurtures the mind,
The humble worker
to whom most are blind,
who toils and troubles
There are many times
when humans sacrifice out of love.
It is this sacrifice
that raises us above
our monstrous desires.
Open your eyes
See past the lies
The world is not in darkness.
It isn’t all night.
Open your eyes and see the light.”
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