Old Bart's Awakening: A Narrative Poem
Old Bart's Awakening
Bart lit a fire in the stove that eve
To take the chill so he could read
A tale about a killing spree.
He read the life of a family of four
Father worked all day, but still were poor
Then came a knock at the hovel’s door.
Mother loved a visit from neighbors few
Threw open the door with a welcome true
White mask with holes for eyes of blue.
A torch flew in on feather tick
Did land and light in a manner quick.
The family fled but the door was fixed.
Bart dropped the book on the floor at right
He could not read of the family’s plight
But conjured an ending of could or might.
Came a knock on door that autumn eve.
White mask with holes for eyes of green
He recalled just then it was halloween.
But book and story and guise of white
Did fill the man with dread and fright
So he chased the children into the night.
He grasped the sheet poor child wore
And stopped the chase to think yet more
Of his own grandpa in days of yore.
Old Bart was stricken with horror and grief
At the thought of kin who’d worn the sheet
And did such crimes, had done the deeds.
Inside he saw the book of gore
And in his heart he solemnly swore
That for his part would nevermore
Look down with pity on another’s plight
From manufactured social heights
And call this error a moral right
Grounded on freedom’s level land
Face to face he’d speak his ban
That race be not the measure of a man