James, the village Parson, was frustrated to hear
That many a parishioner of fairies possessed fear
A straight and upright Anglican, he knew this to be daft
His flock required guidance and counsel through his craft

At Sunday mass he would begin to set the record straight
To purge these superstitions, he firmly would berate
The common folk would need to cleanse and purify their hearts
Of fairy tales, black magic, and other pagan arts

Children, turn your hearts from sin and trust in our Lord’s love
Pray to Christ for mercy! Sing with angels high above!
Fairies have no relevance in our cosmology
Birds and insects possess wings in Earth’s biology

The villagers sat in the pews and bowed their heads in shame
Their knowledge would not go away, their minds remained the same
They knew the frightful consequence of straying in the night
Too far from their cottages, in forests void of light

Through kindred generations, were these warnings handed down
Naughty daughters could be trapped, and curious sons might drown
If they ventured much too close to the creatures of the dark
When wicked elves and naiads, with goblins make their mark

With proper godly forethought, the villagers took heed
To not disturb the fairy realm, two traditions have agreed
To live in cautious harmony so all could have a place
In the woods and riverlands that claim the haunted space

The brave and willing Parson decided he must act
These simple-minded folktales from his mission did detract
By example and courageous zeal, he’d show the village folk
That nothing threatened on the land of pine tree, elm and oak

As the moon began to rise, he took to the woods and mist
Most certain that this fairyland too barmy to exist
With nervous playful energy, disdain and disbelief
He called out: fairies…come and play and praise your priestly chief

In moments few, the dazzling lights from every bush and tree
Enveloped the crusader, who had ne’er a chance to flee
Hypnotized, enraptured, in the psychic grips of Fae
James, the stubborn Parson, is still missing to this day!

Often on a midnight breeze, one still might hear his voice
His wandering spirit so confused, still questioning his choice
At times it feels like ecstasy, at times it haunts with pain
But, no one doubts the simple fact…with fairies he’ll REMAIN!

Theo J. van Joolen©2013

This entry was posted on Friday, August 16th, 2013 at 10:54 am and is filed under Fairy Poems, Spiritual, Theo van Joolen. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.