The stripling killed the giant. Everywhere The women sang songs of his daring deeds. If, in the prince's soul, there was a seed Of jealousy, he took the greatest care To crush it. Though he knew he'd never wear His father's crown, and saw the Lord would lead The shepherd to the throne eventually, He quenched the murmur that it wasn't fair. Instead, he gave his armour and his robe To one who never should have been his friend, And gave him, too, his silver sword and bow, And swore to love him loyally to the end. Stripped now of all he had or could have been, He raised his head and walked out like a king.
I could have titled this “Second Fiddle (II)” given that it explores the same story as last week’s poem, but in a different form (my old favourite, the sonnet) and with a slightly different focus. One of the wonderful things about good stories—whether fairytales or biblical narratives or even the stories of our lives—is that they hold endless possibilities for retelling, for seing things from a slightly different angle or from another person’s perspective, for highlighting this motif or exploring that mystery. And to engage in this retelling enriches us, deepening our understanding of and appreciation for the original story. When we do so with stories from the Bible, is it a form of meditation? When we do so with our life story, can it be part of the journey towards healing and wholeness? I think, yes I think, it is and it can.
'Instead, he gave his armour and his robe To one who never should have been his friend, And gave him, too, his silver sword and bow, And swore to love him loyally to the end.' wow. This so beautifully echoes the narrative and beauty of Jesus himself.
That last couplet! Perfect.