Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Write in the HISTORICAL genre (05/03/07)
TITLE: The History of One
By cindy yarger
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She was born into bondage of un-pardoned (but not unpardonable) sin, at this point in time it was not even her own. Yet she was shaped, and stamped, and formed by it. It held her captive and cried mightily “NO RELEASE.”
A gift had been given her deep within. It was the love of truth. Unbeknownst to her it was a key, the only one in fact, that could set her free. A second gift had been bestowed as well. It was in her name –Reflector of Light. This was her purpose, the heart of her.
To be a Reflector of Light, she must be touched by the Light. And so she was from before the beginning. Her tale has begun its’ journey. The ending, although not elusive, is not to be told today. Herein is just the battle.
The captor lied to her
His tongue was smooth and even
Quick sometimes and often soothing
That is the way with the lies of the captor.
How often she believed
And sure footed she followed
But then she would be beckoned
With “This is not the way.”
She believed the little voice
That said there was a better way
Compassion could be borne from cruelty
Ridicule could lead to strength
Doubt could someday bear the faith of the widows’ mite.
The lying voice was loudest
For the captor knew the truth
She held a key, was born with it
Belief could set her free
The truth could break the chains
How the captor wanted her.
“You are stupid.”
“You are under-educated.”
“You are not well bred.”
“You are just a girl.”
And she listened
She believed the loathsome lies.
The chains were binding tighter
Almost, the captor, he would win
But never more than almost
For she would turn again.
Faith is what she wanted
But truth is what she had
It would prove to be enough
If only she would stand.
Then the battle waned
A bit of a reprieve
She had joys and pleasures
That broadened her well being.
She held a sense of peace
No longing was at hand
‘Cept for little skirmishes
all within lye still.
One day although un-beckoned
Her eyes were opened wide
And she saw the chains
On things that she had trusted in.
Freedom called inside of her
“I can yet be known.”
The captor screeched in his disdain
The battle raged again.
The honesty is in that “truth”
It can be hard to bear,
As lies abound and many follow.
Once a blind man sees
He doesn’t wish for darkness once again
And so it was with her.
The captor changed his tactic and his ways
He would use the truth this time
Let her choose which truth was true
Confusion was his tool as well.
She teetered, tottered, this way, that
Overwhelmed she almost fell
But the little voice, it had its’ way
Bit by bit she understood.
The little voice, it too had heard
It knew the path, could lead the way
She sought to fight the captor
His conniving, twisted truth
Held her captive in her doubt.
She ceased the struggle
When the little voice said
“Be still – you cannot win
The captor knows such choice of words
He’ll match you one by one
And still surpass you in the end.
And this is all her history
From past to present now
It may not seem like much
But it’s all that she has had and held
It is hers to tell.
It doesn’t always seem as such
But the truth has set the pace
Her stand is coming very soon
Her strength is growing everyday
She has the key, she knows the truth
It’s in the stand
That she’ll reflect the Light.
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