Dark Sentiments Season 9 — Day 11: Willie and the Bear
Posted By Randy on October 11, 2018
Image source https://i.etsystatic.com/12243607/d/il/52ecd0/1314714472/il_340x270.1314714472_8sli.jpg?version=0
“Tare” is the weight of an empty vessel. That should be all you need to know to understand the intent of its use here.
Weighing Out the Tare
By LFM
As day begins, the Warrior doth lay his weapons out,
Then, unaccoutred, stands he there, whilst cleansing soul of doubt.
His code, his tools, he promises, whilst weighing out the tare,
That when again they find repose, no stain will any bear.
The poem you are about to read is a “Rite of Passage” tale, loosely based on personal experience. It began to take shape one day walking and talking with my oldest, then four year old, Son Viktor in our woods in the deep heat of the summer just passed, and only coalesced in recent weeks.
So now, on to tonight’s feature Dark Sentiment.
Willie and the Bear
By LFM
He’d seen eleven summer times
Before he made the plan
To face the thing that scared him most,
And face it like a Man.
Young Willie loved the forest
When his Father took him there,
But though he longed to go alone
Was mindful of — The Bear.
Big and shaggy, black as night,
He’d never seen it near,
But he watched it from his window
In the August of his Fear.
Where field and forest met there was
A place where berries grew,
And as he watched it grazing there
He knew just what he’d do.
The killing shed stood spic and span
Beneath the old Oak’s shade,
And Willie knew inside it hung
His Father’s butcher blade.
So one day while his Father was
Off buying things in town,
Willie crept into the shed
And took his weapon down.
All black patina, gleaming edge,
With famishing for death,
Its walnut grip filled Willie’s hand
And took away his breath.
No longer would it be denied
To walk the trails he craved.
With stiffened spine and hardened eye
He’d be as Men behaved.
The forest edge stood minutes by,
And soon he came to stand
Upon the shadowed trailhead with
His weapon in his hand.
An hour Willie walked the trail
Before he stopped to rest
Beside the stream and fishing hole
His Father liked the best.
His heart beat proud within his breast
And as he rested there,
He heard a sound across the pool
And there it stood — The Bear!
All resolve just melted then as
Willie found his feet,
And of the forest creatures there
Were few that were so fleet.
No footfall was remembered as
Sheer terror filled his mind,
But as he locked the door he knew
He’d left the knife behind!
It seemed long hours, but really not,
When Willie heard the truck
Pull up beside the killing shed,
And he’d run out of luck.
He knew he’d have to tell him that
He took the knife and why,
And spent the walk down to the shed
Just trying not to cry.
Nearly there, he saw the kill shed
Doors were opened wide,
And he saw his Father’s rifle
Leaning on the wall beside.
His Father stepped outside just then,
Looked Willie in the eye.
Willie tried to speak but all he
Said was, “Dad, I … I…”
Just then a cloud unveiled the sun
And sent a lancing beam
Straight in through the kill shed door
And set a blade agleam.
The knife was as it always was,
Just hanging on its pegs.
Willie could no longer talk,
Or even feel his legs.
Willie charged his Father then
And hugged him hard around.
He hugged him back, and for a time,
They stood without a sound.
And when his Father spoke at last
There was no tone of scold.
“To make a Man,” he said, “Takes more
“Than steel in hand to mold.”
“But facing down your monster
“Without knowing ought to do,
“That knife in hand feels kinda small —
“It ain’t the blade, it’s you.”
“A blade’ll even out the odds
“But boy, before you’re done,
“Big or small, or none at all,
“You’ll make the cut my Son.”
Randy, you told me yesterday that I might like today’s post. Oh, you were so very right. I’ve always enjoyed your poems and envied your talent. But this is possibly the best I’ve read yet.
Thank you David! And I would hasten to add that no Bears were harmed, nor even put in peril, during the making of this poem.