I found a homeless planet by a distant star,
untouched by human vice or the waste of war.
I stepped aft of the lightspeed craft
into a burst of color and blinding vision
from a star closer than my sun –
My mission had begun.
Hastily I put some virgin sand into a wooden box
and locked the top.
I thought it ought to serve as a footstool for my king.
I crossed that world and after a while
found a stream, its water agleam and undefiled –
not once distilled.
With that crystalline fluid
I filled and sealed a mason jar
in case some future peasant – or worse,
a dying king – should thirst.
I followed the meandering river among purple reeds
to a grove of amber-ringed trees where I stooped
to scoop away strange yellowed leaves.
There I exposed an alien sapling cradled by a seed
I gently lifted that sprig up into a transparent cup
I had reserved for drinking, thinking for sure
some workman of wood would need it when it matured.
But on my way back to my lightship
I slipped and cracked the mason jar
and the water dripped out.
And, as I had forgot to seal the seams
in the wooden box, the sand leaked out
like an hourglass and formed
a thin white trail on the mossy grass.
I had rushed to unearth the novel sapling
and crushed its spidery roots
and as its leaf was drying and turning brown
I broke down, crying –
because I had hoped to make the world new,
change the past
by bringing back things unused.
But alas! In touching with stained
heart and hands, all was defiled:
the hapless planet, its land, water, air –
everywhere that I had been.
I realized it was I – not my home planet –
that was unclean,
and now, I had nothing to bring
to the One sent there from somewhere in space
to save me in the first place –
He was both peasant and dying king.
jlh2010
Lamar Howell's Weblog 