Down he knelt in the stench of life,
And he sang hosannahs there
And the song seemed pure as it wrapped around
The ugly stagnant air.

Hosannahs from his lips he sang
A child just three or four
And looked around at the stench of life,
Then he sang the song once more.

"How can he sing?" said the keeper there
As he heard the boy's sweet song.
"He doesn't know that the dark of night
Will take him before long."

And on and on the small boy sang,
Each note of purest tone,
"Hosannah to the Lord" he sang.
And he sang his song alone.

Although the stench was very deep
And the boy was very small
And his frame was nearly covered up
On him, no stench at all.

His face was clean, his eyes upturned
His gown of purest white.
The aura from his body spread
To pierce the dark of night.

"It is a miracle." then said
The keeper to his friend.
"Please, let's go now", the friend replied.
"No, we'll stay until the end.

"The boy is dying don't you see,
He cannot last for long."
We'll stay," he said, "until we hear,
The last notes of his song."

Hosannahs sweet rang through the air
And warmed the cold of night
Hosannahs sweet rang through the air
And filled the dark with light.

Then softer, softer came the song
And dimmer shone the boy.
But still the look upon his face
Was nothing less than joy.

"He's dead, I think. Let's leave him now.
Let's go, the saga's o'er."
"No, wait, I must turn back again
To see the child once more."

And as he turned to see the body
Buried in the mire
Instead he saw the lad in white
Placed on a glowing pyre.

The angels that around him stood,
Had taken up the song...
The young boy's song. He'd sung it well,
Though life had not been long.

Up now they flew on wings of gold.
They carried him with love,
His life had been hard here on earth,
It would not be above.

For God was watching o'er the lad
Whose life was hard and wrong,
Had seen his face, his innocence,
Had listened to his song.

And when the angels laid him
In God's strong arms up above,
God pulled the child tight to his breast.
At last the child knew love.

Very touching Bobby. Nice work

Jon

A beautiful psalm

Emerald

Bobby, thank you very much. What a touching piece of writing.

Jeff S.

Bobby, brilliant, we all here him sing so beautifully,

ste

Thanks for the tears Bobby!!

Shadow, When I read your poem about how you were told how dirty you were, I had to go find this one from the past. I know that not everyone has the same religious views or feelings of what happens after death, and really this poem is not about that. There's a purity in a child that no evil can touch. We see that over and over here....men who as little boys were abused, molested, and made to feel shame, when the shame had nothing to do with them at all. We see that in the brave men those little boys have become. The dirty part, the filthy part, the shameful part was never theirs, was never part of them, could not touch who they were. It's such an important part of healing to understand that. That's what this poem is about, and I felt like I needed to bring it back for you.

Bobby

thank you bobby ,i'm slowly learning that there is a different kind of love and it dont hurt . you did this for me in so many ways. i know that i love now and its not bad .its very new to me this good feeling inside.

Nicely done, Bobby. Well done.

Sam