Silent Snow

Previously, I wrote a poem called “Falling Snow.” This post is a continuation of that thought.


Silent snow, falling

Standing within this universe,

I saw myself, as if in third person, standing there,

My mind whirling, of the events that I had just witnessed

Like crystallized flakes carried on the winds

My charger, once loyal to me, and mine,

Now possessed with the besmudged spirit of darkness.

Turning, he revealed his broad silhouette.

At a distance, backed by the inky sky and

Back-dropped by all sorts of perverted shapes of scraggly proportions,

The image of my charger,

Against the freshly fallen snow, could be seen.

Characteristic of the cremello horse,

Like sweet champagne, my chestnut steed.

Soft, baby-blue-eyed in recollections, with rosy skin,

Morphed into a dark reality.

Possessed with the other side,

Its nostrils flared, red, as fiery steam surged.

The possessor gouged the sweat-frothed flanks.

Rising up on its rear haunches,

Rippled muscles glistening in the moonlight,

My beast shuddered and steam rose from his fearful sweat,

In the cold night air.

Eyes that once invited,

Now bore down upon me,

Begging me.

Even at a distance, I could make out the pleadings.

Internal anguish was evidenced as our eyes met.

Off he rode into the inky night sky.

My banner flapping in the icy winds.

Thunderous flappings and

Demonic clappings,

Conjoined with the clattering of horse hooves

Like discordant howls of freakish beasts.


As the evil reigned around me,

A calm rose within me, a melody.

A steady chorus of peace and grace

Showing the Strength that dwelled within.

A strange, yet familiar, Hope pervaded my storm.

And I was reminded that,

Joy comes in the mourning.

My God,


My Champion,

I will praise my God.

My father’s father’s God.

I will extol your greatness.

Jehovah, my Champion,

My Defense and Rock

My chosen Warrior.

In Him I trust,

In Him,

I live.

Over and over this refrain returned,

Beginning almost as if unheard, but felt rather

As each snowflake brushed by my face

This empowering ballad grew,

The volume resounded within.

In all these things,

I was reminded that it is not for me I live,

But my King.

As His kingly empire draws, near,

I watch and am ready for the dawning of that glorious day.

When the possessor is vanquished.

With this song,

I declare my place,

Within the fold.

Within my alley,

Alone, I stand.

Within my universe,

Surrounded by predecessors, I stand.

Silent snow, falling.

Until later . . . Jonathan Watson

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