" The Tattoo "

       
   
   
            " The Tattoo "

I once met a man with tattoos,
all over his body.
Some more impressive than others.

But of all the engravings enshrined on him,
none stood out more,
than the one scribed on his heart.

Not noticeable at first,
it was inscribed deep within.
But its radiance was all over him.

Like the beauty of fireflies, on a June eve.
Flashing magically on a moonless night.
Not seeing one singularly, but their wholeness.

And as I looked closely and wondered.
I saw what was so special.
It was four letters, YHWH representing God.

So I asked about this tattoo, or that one,
but with very little to tell.
Until I asked about the one on his heart.

Before I knew, the time had gone by.
It was now the next morning.
But with so much more to tell.

He had spoken of love and mercy,
power and glory,
evil, shame, and forgiveness.

He told me of a father's love
for a son sacrificed.
And a hopeless world, turning deaf ears.

I wanted to hear more answers
as he rose to leave.
But stopped and turned to answer one more.

I thought for the longest,
for one final question,
knowing our chance meeting had to end.

Finally I asked, "where can I get
such a beautiful tattoo?
Surely you know the man or place."

With a smile he looked at me;
and said, "you already have received.
But make no mistake, not from me."

"Rather, when you opened your cold heart
He spoke to you.
It was then it was etched upon you."

"Because it is not for all to receive,
haughty men, nor braggers,
insolent ones, with no desire, or perception."

"But to the meek, as it is with you,
the tired and the weary,
the lonely and desperate seekers of truth."

With that he turned and walked,
as I stood motionless, silent,
pondering over his parting words.

When a great warmth filled me
and fireflies danced wildly,
until the name was permanently inscribed.

For years after that day
I too had been asked.
And others received, that unseen, but visible tattoo.

And although mine has shown through
some days more than others.
I never forgot the hand that etched it.

    S A Gibbins  4-17-96