Windmills: A Poem

Today I wake early..as in most…

Blearily, I struggle out to take up coffee and a lance that has seen it’s days…

Oh, how it has seen it’s days.

I carry it with me now

In ways I can’t say how

I manage to lift it

And point it

At windmills.

It’s weight is heavy

Beyond at times to bear,

Waving it

Towards the fear that

Smothers me with it’s foul air,

I charge against my life—

A teacher of those innocents for whom I care

And against so much I dare

I charge against their windmills.

They live and dwell

In their own loud hell

Innocent and pure, not meaning to harm or injure,

Yet, they require all I can endure

To fight their windmills.

Trapped yet undaunted,

Willing to rise,

Sleepless and worn

But still looking to the skies,

For God’s great hope

And their redemption as the prize,

Toppling their windmills.

Someday—I will fall

It won’t be enough; my all

I won’t be able to reach

The special ones I teach

Because I’ve lost the breach

Flailing at their windmills.

But—I’ll know I’ve stayed the course,

I’ve stayed atop my horse

And, though death will come

So shall that glory be done

Toppling their windmills.

You see,

They will not know;

Because they CAN’T you know

That one man cared

That one man DARED

To save them

When they were scared

From their windmills.

Let the world know one more thing,

When I’m gone I was no King

I was simply one who’d bring

Peace to those who couldn’t live

Facing their windmills…

For these children

They give all they are

So that I may be….by far,

Touched and driven to the stars

To fight their windmills.

They are as God made them,

Special, and hopeful—as I am

They share the lance I wield

And lift, with me, the shield

That drives ne’er to yield

Conquering their windmills.