Tuesday, October 2, 2018

The Ballad of Pain

                  Image by Didier Burton

The Ballad of Pain
By: Samuel Hammock

Upon my merry way one day
To do some simple task
The most unwelcome thing occurred.
“What happened?” You might ask.

I'll tell you my sad sorry tale,
But first I wish to warn
That such a sad calamity
Can cause a heart to mourn.

A familiar flight of stairs
My footsteps did descend,
Steering me, unwittingly,
To an untimely end.

The floor my feet traversed with ease
And then did I follow.
Indeed, away from one’s own feet
One should not try to go.

Down the hall my path was laid,
Across the lam'nate boards.
To my bedroom, my body then
Was happily restored

I wish this was the story’s end
And it's whole course was run,
But with misfortune it must stop
When all is said and done.

My right foot felt the carpet soft
That lies within my room.
My left, eager to follow suit,
Spelled its own certain doom.

Beneath it's sole, the neurons fired,
Sent signals to my brain.
The grey matter, with swiftness great,
Gave its response of pain.

Such agony was ne'er endured
In history of man.
Undoubtedly, I victim was
To vile design or plan.

The pain that Julius Caesar felt
As spoke he his last words
Could not equate to what below
My foot had just occurred.

When Vader said “I am your dad.”
And poor Luke lost his hand,
Such tragedy, compared to mine,
To me seemed rather bland.

At Hastings when King Harold took
An arrow in the eye,
His final shout could not drown out
My own foot's desp'rate cry.

The pain receded gradu'lly
As if it did intend
To hold me there, immobiliz'd
Until the bitter end.

My mind began to wonder what
Could cause such suffering.
The answer was beneath my foot,
Slowly recovering.

I lifted then my wounded limb.
Beneath it I did spy
The most appalling image that
Did ever meet my eye.

Just how it came to be there I
May never understand
Unless by some ill trickery
This “accident” was plann'd.

I could have sworn I moved them all.
They were not underfoot,
But in the light of these events,
My protests appeared moot.

But as these thoughts rushed through my head
Like snowflakes, soft and quick,
Lay on the floor my conqueror,
A single
Lego

Brick.

No comments:

Post a Comment