Childlike Faith

“Free!” —free, you say?

Free to face another day,

Free to step out into space,

Boldly stand and take your place…

Free? Free, you think

That I should never stop and think

Of worries I have had, and fears,

Fears that bore me down for years?

Free? Poor boy, not free.

“love!” —love, you dream?

What can that word really mean?

To one who’s hurt from scars of past,

Finding love that never lasts,

Love that’s twisted, love that’s strained,

Love that never heals the pain…

Love? poor boy, not love.

“Joy!” —joy, dear me!

You think that I will just agree

With this sore game of happy days,

Ignoring truth to stay and play,

Forget the wrong and see the light,

Thinking all will be all right?

Joy? dear boy, there’s no joy.

“Life!” life—well, true…

Life is lived, and often used.

It can be good, it can be hard,

It tests and tries each work of art.

Life? well, yes, but not, I think,

What you, bright boy, do mean.

You won’t say more? Well, now, I’ve won.

You see, not free, not love, my son—

Not joy, not life that’s full and clear…

Yes, dry your eyes, and stop your tears.

You make me wish I’d let you speak,

And just believe what ‘ere you seek.

There, now, don’t make me feel so wrong

To just correct your speech, or long

Before you see the end of days,

They’ll hurt you, son, and make you pay

For having happy thoughts like these.

Stop now, and just dig up the seeds.

“Hope!”—oh…you’re not through yet?

Hope—my boy, can you still forget

What things I’ve told you to believe,

To throw out vain and empty deeds?

Hope? Now there, you’ve hurt me, son.

You’ve said the word that’s me undone.

Why hope, when all around is down,

And all your dreams are on the ground,

And you yourself are left to grind

Before the hammer’s pounding time.

Hope? My boy, don’t say that word.

Don’t prick me with that awful sword.

You go? Ah, yes, you should, my boy,

For I have taken all your joy.

Leave me, for I am cruel indeed,

And let me ruminate my deeds.

Go on, and take your happy thoughts,

And leave me all alone to rot.

What now? You come to say good-bye,

Or tell me off for chiding why

To everything you’ve said, so true—

For casting down the good in you?

“Come!” come…my boy…what can you mean?

“Come!” Come—where? Come—come and dream?

“Come!” I see—you wish me go

With you into your world of gold,

To see what you see, free again—

Love, find joy, and life—and then?

Hope—yes, now, I see your side.

You’ve made me think…at least, I’ve tried…

I know your words are good indeed,

But—how can I simply believe?

“Come!” I know—you want me to,

To see my life as is to you,

And look beyond the hurt I feel,

And trust again, and learn to heal.

Dear child, I wish I had your faith—

That I could see beyond my fate,

And take up arms with might to wield

My constant sword, clutch my shield

Of faith—yes faith should take me through,

And then, I’d be a boy like you.

Oh childlike faith, I long for you.

I’ll come—I’ll come—I’ll walk with you.