A Cautionary Yarn
Via the gift of poetry, I present a tale for your
consideration — one that’s my own creation,
In other words, where both the story that’s told, and the characters
within it, come from my imagination.
And all this in order to convey worthy sentiments, using those
components that are necessary,
That being, in order to hold the reader’s interest, engage them
beneficially and emotionally.
A shadow ran across the gentle incline, its cape tickling the blades of grass clutching at the valley floor,
And where Beth Sangster meandered as she surveyed the hilltops that beckoned her, brows that she’d oft roamed before.
But not today, for Beth was more interested in a tree clad area that she hadn’t yet explored,
An area that due to the pleasure gained from roaming those often wind swept brows, she had so far ignored.
With summer bathing the countryside now, the ground was firm beneath her shoes, and thus her hike a pleasant stroll,
Sparrows on the wing, dragonflies equally as busy, and little rabbits scurrying from hole to hole.
A light breeze brushed past her cheeks as she made her way, the warmth of the day pleasing, and the scenery as well,
And now and again, given the array of flowers that were dotting both trees and shrubbery, she’d stop and smell.
Yes, there’s so much joy to be found in nature, joy so often undiscovered by those brought up in the city,
They more focussed on the materialistic-cum-money, the sophisticated-cum-image, sadly.
In other words, on that which has so little depth and meaning, unlike nature, where depth and meaning abound,
And where midst its natural beauty and tranquillity, a reflective soul healing quietness is found.
Though trees were everywhere and plentiful, she was heading for a dense and widespread cluster that ran for miles,
An area that oddly wasn’t visited as much, but where nature’s treats drew even more admiring smiles.
She seemed to remember some comment that she had overheard about some scary character who lived there,
One who had generated fear somehow, but she was sure that He was further north, though not entirely clear.
“Probably just village gossip,” she mused, dismissing such as the enticing cluster of trees appeared ahead,
And she now beginning to leave behind the company of both gently flowing water and riverbed.
Yes, almost there, a good two hours walk from the village where she lived on her own, she having just tuned thirty,
And enjoying village life midst penning her second novel, her first being penned when living in the city.
“Ah, this is the life,” she mused again, now enjoying the green canopy that had engulfed her slender frame,
And there she stood admiring the high-rise trees — yes, temporary relief from the bustle, clamour and fame.
Oh, how such beguiled, an appealing creature attracting her attention, she following with interest,
And thus straying much further than she had realised — yes, so in awe, for such was nature at its very best.
Feeling a little anxious, she tried to retrace her footsteps, but such was unfamiliar territory,
And she moving further from where she’d originally entered — that is, more north than south, concernedly.
And growing even more anxious, a little panic crept in, and she began to stumble, peering here and there,
Soon emitting a painful cry as she tripped and fell, a cry that fell upon someone else’s tuned ear.
She tried to rise but the pain in her bloodied leg wouldn’t let her, her backpack lying just out of reach, and,
Unbeknown to her, though certainly conscious of the possibility, a looming figure was close at hand.
She heard the crackle of undergrowth coming nearer, anxiety quickening, then suddenly fear,
For rushing towards her was a frightening figure, a disfigured face, someone whose intentions were clear.
She froze, her heart thumping dangerously, and words sticking in her throat, some cruel fate seemingly guaranteed,
Her energy distressingly depleted, she seemingly unable to move, unable to plead.
A calloused hand reached out to snatch her from the undergrowth that seemed to have entangled her intentionally.
“I may look scary,” he said, “But I can assure you that I pose no threat,” and his eyes appeared to agree.
Beth’s fear subsided slightly, his disfigurement most likely a birth defect, and to the right of his face,
He no doubt the one she’d heard of, his disfigurement possibly why he’d chosen this out of the way place.
She finally found her voice as he gently raised her to her feet, one arm supported by his other hand,
His firm but sensitive grip lingering a little while to ensure that she was able to freely stand.
“Thank you,” she said, not quite sure whether such was in order yet, of which he seemed conscious, but genuinely,
Thus stepping back in order to further reassure her, and then fetching her backpack just as thoughtfully.
His baritone voice disturbed the quietness again. “Your leg will need attending to. Are you able to walk?”
Beth made an effort that was more a hobble, she stating the obvious, heartened she felt able to talk.
However, that hobble made her vulnerable, thus her anxiety still had cause, which she dare not share,
Though this man who had appeared out of nowhere, and despite his disturbing looks, genuinely seemed to care.
“I’ve a cottage not far away,” he volunteered. “If you can make it there, I can attend to that leg of yours,
And he smiled as best he was able to, filling her in a little, given her understandable pause.
Clive Simmons had had it rough since birth, his disfigurement fodder for the cruel, a repellent to many,
And after the death of his parents, he sought refuge in the countryside, away from the community.
But even there he’d become an object of fear, the butt of superstitious tales-cum-further injury,
Which he conveyed to Beth, but not in so many words, given she wouldn’t want to hang around, undoubtedly.
And that’s the harsh reality that many unfortunate souls are living with daily — a tragedy,
They shunned, neglected or laughed at for some reason or other, though just as much a part of humanity.
And many of them being the nicest of people, yet treated as outcasts — in other words, inhumanely,
They not understood, misjudged, treated with suspicion, maligned and vilified, come surrounded with fantasy.
“I may need a little help on the way,” Beth replied. Clive nodded, and taking an arm he gently led her,
And as they chatted on the way, the truth that appearances can be very deceiving began to stir.
Yes, so often those who point the finger and waggle the tongue are far from right, and guilty of greater wrong,
Wrong that the pain of many who’re innocent, damaged, or disfigured like in Clive’s case, is seen to prolong
The homely looking little cottage was only a wild stone’s throw away, and it soon appeared within view,
A babbling brook nearby — and to her surprise, that very same creature Beth had earlier sought to pursue.
Clive noticed her interest. “She’s a regular visitor here,” he informed Beth, “And her mother as well,
And they aren’t the only ones,” he added. And Beth could see herself soon coming under Shady Hollow’s spell.
Once inside the cottage her leg was attended to, Clive surprising her with his medical ability,
The result of his mother’s influence, she having been a nurse, and not unfamiliar with surgery —
Minor surgery — and Clive having watched his mother as she kindly attended to friends and family,
Yes, village life as a nurse being so very different to the life of a nurse who worked in the city.
And what Clive had learnt, he’d put to good use around his cottage, tending to sick, wounded and orphaned creatures,
Many having no fear of him, sensing his affection and good intentions-cum-benevolent features.
And so it was how his plight proved a blessing to the innocent and vulnerable, oft victims of men,
They being, those who stalk, slaughter, cage, shackle, mistreat and misuse — and, let me add, unnecessarily pen.
That being, to satisfy their desires, despite the abundance of alternative food which can spare such ill;
Come those slaughter houses dotting the globe and polluting the land, where men, without any qualms, millions kill.
But not Clive, for the very though of such was repugnant to him, all life being precious, and part of a plan,
One that never intended that creatures suffer so violently and coldheartedly at the hands of man.
Well, Beth learnt much from Clive, regularly visiting Shady Hollow (a bus drive and thirty minutes walk,
That is, via entering the cluster of trees from the northern side), and there, they would potter, wander and talk.
Though in his late forties, Clive had the strength and energy of a much younger man, up at the crack of dawn,
Fetching and chopping wood, working the land, tending to feathered and fury friends, his clothing sweat stained and torn.
And as time went by, the disfigured face of Clive ceased to register the same in Beth’s mind, and indeed heart,
She finding herself drawn to this man of depth, character and gentleness, who’d turned caring into an art.
A man effectively shunned by society, yet more noble and loving than those acting so cruelly,
They thus judging by appearance , caught up in looks — and despite the gift of life, acting so inhumanely.
Despite the age difference (not always a consideration), Beth conveyed her interest creatively,
Which Clive (often scratching his head in astonishment, and yet with delight), responded to accordingly.
And in the quietness of Shady Hollow, and the beauty that surrounded, wedding vows were soon exchanged,
Signalling the affection, intention and direction of two lives that had now irreversibly changed.
Well, with Beth’s new novel being another best seller, Shady Hollow became a favoured sanctuary,
Where needy creatures received the best of care, and where animal welfare was promoted vigorously.
And just as strongly, the well-being of humans, for both are living creatures that hurt one should never dare,
And who the precious gift of life, and everything wonderful that this world can offer, were meant to enjoy and share.
You know, sometimes we fear those that we shouldn’t, and don’t fear those that we should, perhaps taken in by their charm,
Given it’s a clearly known fact that many who seem to be no threat to us are capable of much harm.
But for some intriguing reason, we still seem to have that thought in mind that most evil people look nasty,
And often avoid those who look somewhat unfortunate, thus judging by appearances, tragically.
Yes, too much movie watching, perhaps — but the fact remains that we shouldn’t judge by appearances, come blindly,
For appearances can be very deceiving, and we run the risk of denigrating someone wrongly.
And needless to say, such is hardly fair — an action that can reveal more about us, and negatively,
All of which we’d do well to ponder on, and rightly apply, thus showing thought, wisdom, love and maturity.
Judging by appearances also includes what people do, which we need to take care we don’t misconstrue,
For once again, we can think something that’s not so — and even worse, go and tell others when we shouldn’t do.
And oh, the harm that’s often done, which can even kick back at us, and all because of acting thoughtlessly,
That is, going by perception and presumption (rather than making sure we’ve got things right) — which is silly.
There’s enough heartache and trouble without us causing more, and enough toxic grapevines being watered and fed,
Which is why many things are best not thought or shared, lest such by others be added to, and even further spread —
Just like in Clive’s sad case — where things were thought and said that had no basis whatsoever in reality,
For Clive was a good man, one who felt forced to remove himself as far as possible from society.
Yes, appearances can certainly be deceiving, for much that looks attractive is very far from so,
Hence how many are deceived, and often suffer as a result, for disguise is oft the way of the foe.
On the other hand, much that we consider unattractive is a treasure trove, rich with the beneficial,
Unlike that which hides poison tipped arrows, each arrow pointed at those who come under its beguiling spell.
Well, even the discerning, impartial, and truly thoughtful person can be caught out by that which attracts,
For once again, appearances can be very deceiving, and so often there is something that distracts.
But judging by appearances alone, hearsay or perception, is nothing but folly, and most unfair,
And why every single one of us needs to mind what we think and share, and even what we read, watch and hear.
By Lance Landall
This poem was penned November 2011
