Memoirs of a King (Poetry)
30th March 2008
The records have us down as three wise men —
Myself, I doubt much wisdom came to bear
For when the news arrived I only knew
A rare compulsion gripped me — bid me leave
My kingdom and set out upon the road
To find what for so long had been foretold.
Along the way I met two other kings
Who also quested. Chance or destiny
Had led us so we journeyed steadily —
One bearer each — no guards — we travelled light
And unmolested — no one barred our path
Or tried to steal the precious gifts we bore.
We rode untroubled through the desert nights
Our camels coughing softly and the stars
Dazzling above us. So it seemed
Unreal — that chill, half-waking in a dream
Submissive as our beasts — their will and ours
Drawn between the shifting lonely dunes.
Some towns we made enquiries — sought our way
And thus it was that Herod summoned us
And we were civil — paid him due respect
Were tolerant of questioning but gave
Little information in exchange —
Left him without answers — anxious, vexed.
We neared the place and silver clouds of light
Enshrouded figures singing from the heights
The air vibrating with the beat of wings
The very sky afire — a sea of flames
The three of us in awe, our senses rapt
And overwhelmed by visions, stood transfixed.
Above a modest roof one star hung low
And there we found him and laid round about
Our gifts of gold and myrrh and frankincense —
We offered him our tribute, there and then.
Moved by humility — his mother’s gaze —
The moment brought us trembling to our knees.
There were shepherds near and beasts laid quiet
Upon the stable’s straw — all eyes on him —
A babe whose glowing flesh held us in thrall —
A king who had no need of royal robes —
His lineage was plain, his bloodline pure —
Our hearts fell open, knowing this was true.
Did we adore him ? Maybe. — Artists paint
That scene and title it as though we did.
In truth, I only know a sense of joy
And sadness filled me, hope and terror, too —
For all that was to come — the prophecy
Unfolding words of glory etched in pain.
Afterwards, departing silence stretched
Between us like a tight conspiracy.
I dreamed a warning dream of children’s blood
And Melchior, too, was troubled in his sleep.
Then Caspar spoke of omens — bid us take
A different route, outwitting Herod’s spies.
That child grew into manhood and his fate —
As word of him spread far — to foreign lands —
Miraculous, the tales... But his new god
Failed to save him — they nailed him to a tree
And I, a non-believer, hid my grief
Imagining his strength and sacrifice.
Long years have passed — I’m old, my writing’s frail
I’m given to remembering such thoughts! —
Examining at length each small detail
Painstakingly recording all we saw
That night — since my companions — fellow kings —
Are distant and I’ve had no word of them.
We three were witnesses — all other deeds —
Good and bad — will doubtless be eclipsed — judged
Of no import beside the part we played
In this great story — thus will our names survive
Immortalized as legends — known as wise
For little more than simply being there.
Myself, I doubt much wisdom came to bear
For when the news arrived I only knew
A rare compulsion gripped me — bid me leave
My kingdom and set out upon the road
To find what for so long had been foretold.
Along the way I met two other kings
Who also quested. Chance or destiny
Had led us so we journeyed steadily —
One bearer each — no guards — we travelled light
And unmolested — no one barred our path
Or tried to steal the precious gifts we bore.
We rode untroubled through the desert nights
Our camels coughing softly and the stars
Dazzling above us. So it seemed
Unreal — that chill, half-waking in a dream
Submissive as our beasts — their will and ours
Drawn between the shifting lonely dunes.
Some towns we made enquiries — sought our way
And thus it was that Herod summoned us
And we were civil — paid him due respect
Were tolerant of questioning but gave
Little information in exchange —
Left him without answers — anxious, vexed.
We neared the place and silver clouds of light
Enshrouded figures singing from the heights
The air vibrating with the beat of wings
The very sky afire — a sea of flames
The three of us in awe, our senses rapt
And overwhelmed by visions, stood transfixed.
Above a modest roof one star hung low
And there we found him and laid round about
Our gifts of gold and myrrh and frankincense —
We offered him our tribute, there and then.
Moved by humility — his mother’s gaze —
The moment brought us trembling to our knees.
There were shepherds near and beasts laid quiet
Upon the stable’s straw — all eyes on him —
A babe whose glowing flesh held us in thrall —
A king who had no need of royal robes —
His lineage was plain, his bloodline pure —
Our hearts fell open, knowing this was true.
Did we adore him ? Maybe. — Artists paint
That scene and title it as though we did.
In truth, I only know a sense of joy
And sadness filled me, hope and terror, too —
For all that was to come — the prophecy
Unfolding words of glory etched in pain.
Afterwards, departing silence stretched
Between us like a tight conspiracy.
I dreamed a warning dream of children’s blood
And Melchior, too, was troubled in his sleep.
Then Caspar spoke of omens — bid us take
A different route, outwitting Herod’s spies.
That child grew into manhood and his fate —
As word of him spread far — to foreign lands —
Miraculous, the tales... But his new god
Failed to save him — they nailed him to a tree
And I, a non-believer, hid my grief
Imagining his strength and sacrifice.
Long years have passed — I’m old, my writing’s frail
I’m given to remembering such thoughts! —
Examining at length each small detail
Painstakingly recording all we saw
That night — since my companions — fellow kings —
Are distant and I’ve had no word of them.
We three were witnesses — all other deeds —
Good and bad — will doubtless be eclipsed — judged
Of no import beside the part we played
In this great story — thus will our names survive
Immortalized as legends — known as wise
For little more than simply being there.