Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Witness Raven

Thanks to Ty Scharrer

By Terry Johnson:

On upon a morning, dreary,
as I pondered weak and weary
over many a quaint and curious volume
of forgotten doctrine and Watchtower law.

all was quiet, no one talking,
and suddenly there came a knocking,
as if a giant clock tick-tocking,
knocking on my own front door,
only this, and nothing more.

Ah, distinctly I remember,
that Saturday in mid-September,
When I was visited by a member
of that group I was part of no more,
only this, and nothing more.

"They've found me," I said in quiet terror
Why are they here, is it an error?
Surely they don't want to have me
in their busy group once more!
only this and nothing more

I heard the knock, but I resisted,
and that annoyng knock persisted,
the Witness on my porch insisted,
that I answer my front door,
only this and nothing more.

Alas, the door I opened wide,
and saw him standing there outside
in a suit with necktie nicely tied
"Hello, Sir", he said, smiling wide
and I hoped that he'd say nothing more.

"I'm here", he said, to fill a need,
With magazines and books to read,
to show you how you can survive
the coming Armageddon war
he set his book bag on the floor.

"It's obvious the world ain’t working
the devil, he is surely smirking,
over all the evil he's inspired,
but God has a remedy in store."
I sighed, I'd heard it all before.

"by a book and have a study"
learn from me, I'll be your buddy
and in time perhaps you'll join us,
saving souls from door to door."
boring already, and still more.

"The time is short for God to act,
it's coming soon, and that's a fact.
so sell your home and quit your job,
and leave your friends. We'll find you more"
He smiled, but said nothing more.

I listened and I stood politely,
but inside felt anger burning brightly.
did he not know his message had
ruined many lives before?
With promises, and nothing more.

As I watched the man I wondered,
should I tell how often Brooklyn's blundered,
Does he know his message that "Time is short"
has been preached for a hundred years or more?
the dates have changed, but nothing more.

Should I tell him of the rules that changed,
of doctrines gone or rearranged
by men who claim to speak for God
in those magazines, now at my door?
selling promises, and nothing more.

Does he know the heavy price he'll pay,
if he ever thinks in his own way?
or breaks any of so many rules,
and each year they just add more.

Should I tell of my own family, taken,
their affections now forsaken,
'cause long ago I did awaken
to the lies that I'd believed before,
and had preached gladly, door to door.

Should I tell him of my father, dying,
old and feeble, but still trying
to make it to the paradise
that was always just "a few years more"?

In truth I knew not what to say,
so I asked the man, "Please go away"
don't bother me with your books
I know I've read them all before.
the door closed and I said nothing more.

Should I have told him that the truth I've found
is not in books so brightly bound
and not from a place or learned man,
and the world is not in Satan's hand?

Perhaps I should have warned him so
but this day was so long ago,
I said nothing as he left my door'
and I saw this Witness, nevermore.

> Terry Allan Poe

This poem is also planned for the September 06 issue of our
sister-magazine, Lovelight.

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