I Fought Mother Theresa [jay]

If love is tough,
Then I am Mother Theresa,
Perusing the streets of personal Calcuttas
Telling the orphans and beggars I find there
To get off their asses and get a job.

Damascus steel hardened by torment of flame,
And pounded out on the anvil of pain,
Etched with story of battles won and enemies conquered,
A vanquishing captain laying waste
To all who dare intimidate.

With a ring and sting of steel unsheathed,
I hew through approaching foes,
Spilling blood and wreaking havoc.
With glee, end I their misery,
Declaring their release to eternal comfort.

Rest in peace, Mother Theresa,
Know that I will continue your crusade of love.
Tough as nails and cold as ice,
I courageously seek the liberation
Of all who stand in my way.

O Captain!  My Captain!
Our fearful trip is done…

 Done? The trip is never done, son.
Stand your post,
There is always a battle to fight.

O spectered apparition!
Theresa speaks from the grave!
What?
A correction you offer?
Then come, tender mother,
Let us reason together.
You with elven sword,
And I, Kerbouchard steel;
This will be a battle for the ages!
Into the fray once more!

 What, have you no sword?
Have you no mace?
Have you neither shield nor spear?
Have you no cause?
No desire for power?
What say you, beautiful one?
Is not my edge keen and my skill strong?

 O Theresa!
End thee my torture,
Where is thy pity?
Put away thy tenderness and care!
Thy gentle heart and quiet spirit
Torment my illusions of power
Leaving me frail, pathetic and without answer.
Thy tender love subdues my mightiest of counters,
Leaving me wrecked and wretched in thy wake.

 Fret not, Theresa.
I receive thee and thy love.
Bloodied and beaten
Stand I before thee.
Tough love is defeated,
True love has conquered.
I have not lost my will to fight,
Just my need to win.

I am dulled,
I am beaten,
I am broken.

 I can neither help nor save these people,
So to their own damnation let them go,
In grace and love will they be rescued,

But for God’s sake, Theresa,
Tell me there is more than thine own defeat,
Speak to me thy words of comfort and victory.

Tell me there is more
Than this call to struggle without end.

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3 thoughts on “I Fought Mother Theresa [jay]

  1. .fav.

    Put away thy tenderness and care!
    Thy gentle heart and quiet spirit
    Torment my illusions of power
    Leaving me frail, pathetic and without answer.

  2. In a moment of crying out to God for a more pure, loving heart to replace my broken one and between my own lines of soul searching poetry I found yours. I read the beautiful lines over and over. There is more.

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