Birthday Poem II

February 26, 1990…

A beautiful child was born;

She filled her parents’ hearts with such glee,

While the angels in Heaven were left to mourn…

Por veinte años ellos lloraban,

“Father, we miss her so,”

(They lamented she was in a distant land,)

And the Lord spoke to them and said, “Fear not, for each night

I’ve insisted the stars come out…and guide her wherever she may go;

Whatever seeks to inflict harm upon her will fall by My hand—

These things, I’m sure, she, too, knows.”

And she’s always known God to be on her side;

The Good Book is her written authority,

Canon by which she’s long sought to abide—

Not the world’s order…or the antiquated Code of Hammurabi,

For she knows the transgressor is not just in these courts tried;

God’s word is superjacent to all, and will decide one’s final destiny…

They say when she was born, the sky was of amethyst—

One of her favourite colors,

And her mother’s womb did the Virgin Mary so duly bless…

With the softest, sweetest kiss,

The purveyor of beatific things,

Su destino era purgar el mundo de todo el doler.

And she’s aptly suited to such calling;

Her heart is as big as her home state of Texas—

The breadth of ten Iowan corn fields;

She’ll melt your essence with a smile ever so infectious,

Even compelling the most guarded of men to finally lower his shield—

Truly the angels in Heaven have reason to lament,

For gone from their realm is something that is beyond empyreal.

Sí, los ángeles en a Cielo tienen razón lamentar,

Porque ellos perdieron alguien muy especial—

Como cuando a Dios mandó un ángel otro salvar este mundo—

Y como Él, porque ella existe, los que la conocen, sus vidas son ricas.

Hope lives…with each breath she takes,

The lives changed stemming from her every gesture—

Like the vagrant whose thirst she slakes,

With the angels’ tears from Heaven her Father helps her to procure,

Or the people whose lives were changed by shifting plates;

She prays for a peripeteia in their plight…

And that through Him they find the strength to endure.

Children love her,

As she in turn loves them,

And in their eyes she sees a love as bright as their future;

They see in her the aplomb of a rose—strong, redolent, prim—

Together they see life as unscripted, yet to be determined,

Not entailed with the plots that'd make for great theater,

Or a storyline that, by necessity, has to be grim,

For blessed is the life of he that lives through Him.

(How close can you get to an angel

Without falling in love with a dream?

I can’t say for certain, but I feel it’s much too late for me…)

I…love…her—with that idyllic love of lore,

The kind that keeps a sailor sane whilst at sea—

Even when the distance between he and she…

Is as great as that between the mast and the ocean floor—

Piracy and humanity…

Her love is far greater than any natant hoard,

That’d drive a man to plunder for lack of morality—

She’s enough plus everything times a thousand more,

Yes, I’ve fallen in love with a dream, and it’s much too late for me.

Still, though, all beauty evanesces,

Yet, like a great love story, has the sweetest prelude,

Where love itself is make or miss,

But prevails over all when the story doth conclude—

I know her, this girl—the girl…

Through whom all beautiful things has its genesis,

Whose spirit affords one an unfiltered view,

To a God who stays the same—no matter how much the world changes;

Like her father, she is love unwavering, tried and true…

Still the girl who, after twenty years, the angels in Heaven still miss,

Even more so on today, as the sky is again that amethyst hue—

Después veinte años, todas las lágrimas de las ángeles,

Siempre es la chica—nuestra chica; su nombre es…Genesis—

My beautiful friend, Happy Birthday to you.

- Kevin Waring