The Chick*

NOTE: The following poem is very long but has short verses. I am recommending it as a sample of the encouragement that God gave His people in times of hardship times of suffering and persecution.


Doru Radu

Golgotha Romanian Baptist Church, Warren, Michigan


 


The Chick*


Forlorn, all by himself in the shell

the bright golden chick

has finally felt ill at ease --

downright uncomfortable!

For he discovered his world

had somehow shrunk!

“What could this be?” he thought.

“What tragedy has befallen on me

that I should live

in this tiniest of homes

that’s here becoming, smaller and smaller?...

That I should find

insufficient room lying on my face

or on my back.

And if this were not enough,

Look, there’s this silly beak

getting in my way.

Alas, let me speak in bitterness,

as fools do…

But the beak is deaf

as it falls limp now on the left, now on the right,

like a beam in a useless dangle.

On top of it all,

two beady eyes appeared.

And heavy wings have sprung out.

To what purpose I know not!

And here below

there appeared a pair of

long, crooked claws,

that did pierce my belly.

Lord, why ever did you give me

these gifts that are so burdensome to me?

And, turning on his side,

The chick began to softly cry

for the very first time in his life…

But, knock-knock, who

on the outside is calling?

Fear grips him so...

Whoever could it be, but really who?...

And so, as if in a dream

the chick responded to the call.

Look! While knocking away,

a window to the outside world is blown!

Oh, Lord,

what wonder, matchless sight this is!

There, how wide it all is,

for him to play at will,

to lie down to sleep!

And a voice so sweet does break

a mother-like echo is being heard:

Do come now!

And jumped our chick

out of his old nest.

What joy it is to have eyes,

and ears, too!

How wonderful light is …

To drink it all in!

But what is this?

A tender blade of grass …

And lifting his eyes

into the bright sunshine,

the chick his first move did make!

And then, as time flies,

his eyes upon a well ripened grain did fall.

Mmm! It tastes so good!

And on a leaf of sweet basil

a small beetle could be seen.

But Lord, my beak is not at all misplaced!

For here in the new land,

what could I have done?

if I had no wings, no claws;

what was so burdensome

in his hermit-like cocoon?

Poor little chick …

Brethren, his story is but ours …

Honesty, purity, mercy, sacrifice,

a humble heart, and heavy tears,

kindness, and long sighing for the stars –

well, what could we do with all these

down here below?

To be speechless as the sheep,

when led to the sheerer;

to be longsuffering,

to aspire after no riches

no name to try to make;

to love him, who would if he could

completely bruise you –

well, what use would all these

be in the world?

When under the sun

only the sly grin,

only the heavy, grave pace

only the gloved hand

who looks after its own best;

yea, when life is but a game

where all come to the crossroads

and throw at you only thorns

and shards unlimited,

you, should take up the cross

and quietly carry,

humble though with spittle covered ...

Oh, Father, Merciful Creator,

Why ever did you give us

Gifts that seem such a burden?

Why? Don’t you know?

But wait a minute …

There comes a time,

when over this world

a shout will be heard …

Knock, Knock, knock!

And in this old house

a window will be opened

to that marvelous world out there.

And then, my brother,

how good it will be

to have done all this sighing?

to have cross marks on your shoulders,

and your temples furrowed by thorns?

To have your face shining

by the tears you shed!

For all these will turn into

white wings and light tunics

and a ruby-filled crown

and a kingly rod,

that worlds will know how to handle

(as John told us!),

when across our foreheads

the eternal Name will brilliantly shine:

JESUS !

*Translated from Romanian by Dorin Motz of

Washington, D.C. Published with his approval


Costache Ioanid

(Romanian poet, born 1912 in Ukraine, died in 1987, in Portland, Oregon) {1}

This Christian poet could not publish in communist Romania, but God used his work to enhance the faith of His children who learned his poems by heart, copied them by hand or tape-recorded them.


#SEPTEMBER22


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