Poetry

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There once was a man with a scar, named Mac,
Who lived in an old and broken-down shack?
He had no living kith or kin,
Or so he would say now and again.

Neither man, nor beast for him did care,
Much less with him would others share:
And he was taunted by the youth,
Abused with words so vile--uncouth!

They little knew God's plan for him...
Their Christian views were rather dim.
This fellow's heart was good, whereby
His actions would not harm a fly.

Self-righteous folks stepped to the side
When he drew near to go inside.
He wasn't known to curse or bellow,
Yet no one offered him a "Hello!"

Well aware was Mac, of the many frowns
Directed at him by most folks in town.
They thought his stories a pack of lies,
Would not have cared to listen any wise.

Then came the day when a sweet little boy,
Dashed into the street to catch his prize toy.
A car, driven fast, bore down upon him,
While those around stood frozen of limb!

Yet faster than thought did Mac intervene,
Rescued the child from the speeding machine.
By pushing him out of the vehicle's path...
He lost his life in the grim aftermath.

Love like this has seldom been shown:
Another's life ahead of their own!
Mac brought forth a true Christian's treasure,
Mercy, forbearance, and love in great measure.

By Deborah Russell

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