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Two Pens

Debbie Cottrell

I have been with the Writer’s Group for five years.  I find it a wonderful way to be creative and enjoy the amazing people I have met here at the group.

JUXTAPOSITION

Tarzan almost died in the jungle.  His inept effort in survival left him weak from malnutrition.  Lacking knowledge about his surroundings, he was petrified, afraid to wander too far from his location.  Tarzan had no choice, he had to find water and nourishment if he wanted to make it out of there alive.

 

Stumbling through thick foliage, causing abrasions to his arms and legs.  Tarzan kept advancing toward the sound of rushing water.  He needed to stay alert, danger was everywhere.

 

Not having a weapon of any kind made Tarzan a target for any hungry beast that might be around.  The smell of blood from the lacerations on his limbs put him in great peril.  What was he to do?  What was more eminent, water or devising something to fight with?  Tarzan continued on, keeping his eyes sharp for anything he could use to defend himself with.

 

All at once, he stopped; the sounds of the jungle had gone silent, he was not alone.  Eyes racking the ground for anything he could use for protection, Tarzan spotted a long, heavy stick.  He broke one end to create a sharp point.  Finally, he had a weapon.  What was out there?  Struck with fear, he quietly crept through the underbrush, listening for any sounds that would help him discover his predator.

 

Time stood still, something was lurking out there, but what?  Perspiration covered his body; every nerve was on high alert.  Then something moved to his left.  He waited, clutching his spear.  Slowly whatever was out there was coming closer.  The branches moved and a head appeared.

 

It was Jane.  She said, “Tarzan, what are you doing?” I found water an hour ago and was waiting for you to join me.”

 

Not wanting Jane to know how scared he had been, Tarzan said, “I was making a weapon to protect you with in case of danger.  I was on my way, lead on.”

 

Jane looked at Tarzan and wondered if that was all he had been doing.  Oh, well, she thought, and turned back the way she had come and led him back to the waterfall.  She had gathered food and made a small shelter.  She said, “I was keeping busy waiting for you.”

 

Tarzan, again not wanting Jane to know how frightened he had been, just said, “Good job!  Well, I guess we know who wears the loin cloth in this family!”

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WHO ARE THE MESSENGERS?

The wind was howling and I hated to go out

Winters are nasty and it's hard to get about

 

I pulled up my collar to block the cold blast

And proceeded down the lonely street at last

 

On the other side of the street two men were huddled together

 I felt uncomfortable, and I tell you, not just from the weather

 

One of the men started towards me, crossing the street

I was nervous; he wasn't anyone I wanted to meet

 

His clothes were ragged and dirty, his hair was a mess

He looked tired and hungry, and I really must confess

 

I didn't want to be approached by him, but what could I do

I assumed he'd ask for money, I guess that was the least I could do

 

Then Sunday morning's sermon came to mind

Don't prejudge a person's worth, be kind

 

I could miss God's message, He could be using this guy

I needed to put aside my fears and find out why

 

God looks at our heart, not just at our outer shell

I needed to do the same and listen to the story this man had to tell

 

He came closer and smiled at me

A gentle man as kind as could be

 

We started to chat about the weather

The lines of his face look like leather

 

He told me his hardship and how he ended up this way

He'd lost his job and when things got tough his wife wouldn't stay

 

He had nothing but the clothes on his back

And here I had everything, there was nothing I lacked

 

Yet lately I had been depressed about my life

It took this poor man to show me true strife

 

He told me God loves us all

Everyone, meek or small

 

He said I looked sad as I walked on by

He just felt urged to come over and ask why

 

I told him I had been feeling very sad

But since talking to him I didn't feel so bad

 

I thanked him; he turned and started to go

He never asked for a penny, why I don't know

 

I yelled wait, ran up to him and gave him some money

Suddenly the whole word began to look sunny

 

Pastor was right, the message was clear

Thank God I didn't miss this blessing because of fear

 

We never know who the messenger might be

So open your heart, this is a message from me

 

 

 

 

 

To Pastor Phil, your sermon touched my heart.

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