From Shame to Sonship: Alcoholism and Identity in Christian Faith

Abstract painting with swirling gold, crimson, blue, and black brushstrokes

My maternal grandmother hid knives on weekends.

Her husband drank, and when he drank, things became dangerous. My paternal grandfather was mean. He was cruel and abusive when alcohol was in him, and absent in the ways that mattered when it wasn’t.

I grew up knowing what alcoholism does to a family from the inside. I saw how hurt my aunts and father were and heard horror stories.

Later, I sat in recovery groups and watched people wrestle free from addiction through the grace of God. I saw what it cost. I watched and experienced what freedom looks like when it finally arrives.

That experience went into Redeeming Rhubarb — specifically into the character of Rhubarb himself. He drinks. He is an alcoholic. And I wanted to write that with the honesty it deserves, not as a plot device but as someone relatable and someone that grace can actually reach.


The Backstory Behind the Behavior

Stephen Covey tells a story of a man whose children are running wild on a subway car, disturbing everyone around them. Covey, frustrated, asks the father to control them. The man looks up blankly and says: “We just came from the hospital. Their mother died an hour ago.”

Covey’s annoyance dissolves instantly. Not because the children’s behavior changed — but because he suddenly understood the story behind it.

We all have a backstory. And when you know someone’s backstory, you can begin to understand why they do what they do — without excusing it.

This is why I give Rhubarb a backstory.

Without it, readers would see his prejudice, his cruelty, his abandonment of his family in the flood — and they would simply hate him. They wouldn’t want him redeemed. They might not even believe redemption was possible for someone like him.

So I add more. Rhubarb was wounded by a father who never accepted him, no matter how hard he tried to please him. He lost his brother and blamed rats who sold him drugs. He carries guilt that he has never spoken out loud. And when he later believes his daughter has died because of his own failures, that guilt compounds into something that crushes him.

None of this makes his behavior acceptable. But it makes him comprehensible. And comprehension is where compassion begins. The reader may not like or agree with what Rhubarb does, but they’ll feel compassion for his brokenness.

I also show Rhubarb at his best. He plays with his children, compliments his daughter, and shows flashes of warmth and humor. He is not a cartoon villain. Rhubarb is a broken mouse with both good and bad in him, like all of us.


The Downward Cycle of Shame

Here is something I’ve come to understand about shame — not just from Rhubarb’s story, but from my own:

We’ve all lost our true identity. We see ourselves based on our performance. If we excel in sports, we identify ourselves as good athletes. If we do well at our jobs, we identify ourselves as good workers. In contrast, if we fail, if we make mistakes, if we do things wrong, we identify ourselves as worthless.

Rhubarb sees himself as worthless. His father told him so, in a hundred different ways. His identity was formed in failure, and it stayed there.

Shame drove him to drink — to numb the pain of that identity. And when he believed he was responsible for his daughter’s death, the shame deepened. He knew drinking was the problem. But shame doesn’t drive people toward change. Shame drives people deeper into the very thing destroying them. That is the downward cycle — and it is one of the most accurate things I know about addiction because I’ve been there, I’ve experienced it.

The only thing that breaks the cycle is not willpower. It is not discipline. It is love. My accountability partners loved me. They accepted me for who I am and reminded me that I am still loved by God.


The Poem That Expresses Who I Am

I wrote this poem that wrestles with exactly this question: Who Am I? I had been an athlete. A developer of code. A provider. And as those roles fell away one by one, I found myself asking: if I’m not what I do — then who am I?


Once I thought I was an athlete.
I ran cross country and track.
I won awards and races.
I saw pleasure on many faces.
Now, being old, I can no longer run.
Who I thought I was has become undone.

Once I thought I was a developer of code.
I wrote programs that people used and praised.
People were delighted and amazed.
Now, retired, I no longer code and write.
Who I thought I was has taken flight.

Accolades and praise, applause and awards
Are what I sought, gained and lost.
For what I thought was my identity,
Is now gone, so who am I now?
For all I thought I was, I disavow.

I am not a writer.
A writer is what I do,
Not who I am.

I am not a man,
A man is my sex.
It is not who I am.

I am not a father.
I produced, and now I raise my kids,
But it is not who I am.

So who am I?
If I'm nothing I do?
If I'm not my attributes or appearance?

The answer comes from the one
Who created me to be his son.
In the image of God was I made
It is my identity that will never fade.

I am a child of the Most High God
In him is my identity and whom I laud.
I am his beloved son in whom he is well pleased.
It is by his love my soul is forever seized.

I am not worthless as I sometimes believe.
I am not what I don't do or fail to achieve.
I am of the highest value to the only one.
I am a prince of the king, his beloved son.

The Identity That Breaks the Cycle

Rhubarb’s redemption comes not from a lecture, not from a program, not from trying harder. It comes when he finally understands that he is loved.

Barnabas keeps showing him love — consistently, at great personal cost, without requiring Rhubarb to change first. His daughter Strawberry speaks truth to him — the hardest truth, delivered with tears rather than cruelty. It is this powerful combination of truth and love that breaks Rhubarb and brings him to redemption.

He realizes he is loved. And that realization gives him a new identity.

That is the identity we all need. Not the identity formed by our performance, our failures, or our father’s voice, but the one that was given to us before any of that happened. We are beloved children of God. We are princes and daughters of the King, created in his image, bought by his Son, being made new.

In our merit-based world, that identity is almost impossibly hard to accept. But it is our true identity. And it is the only one that doesn’t come undone when the accolades stop and the roles fall away.

That’s what Redeeming Rhubarb is about. Not a mouse who was always good. A mouse who was broken in a specific way, for a real reason — and who had to decide, at great cost, to receive the love that had been offered to him all along.


To continue this conversation with your family: My free Redeeming Rhubarb Complete Companion Guide includes chapter-by-chapter discussion questions, family conversation starters, and KJV Faith Connections for all 46 chapters — available free at bobrichleyauthor.store.

Who Am I? Discovering Identity as a Child of God

Winding path through colorful rolling hills toward a radiant sunset

Who Am I

Once I thought I was an athlete.
I ran cross country and track.
I won awards and races.
I saw pleasure on many faces.
Now, being old, I can no longer run.
Who I thought I was has become undone.

Once I thought I was a developer of code.
I wrote programs that people used and praised.
People were delighted and amazed.
Now, retired, I no longer code and write.
Who I thought I was has taken flight.

Accolades and praise, applause and awards
Are what I sought, gained and lost.
For what I thought was my identity,
Is now gone, so who am I now?
For all I thought I was, I disavow.

I am not a writer.
A writer is what I do,
Not who I am

I am not a man,
A man is my sex.
It is not who I am.

I am not a father.
I produced, and now I raise my kids,
But it is not who I am.

So who am I?
If I'm nothing I do?
If I'm not my attributes or appearance?

The answer comes from the one.
Who created me to be his son.
In the image of God was I made
It is my identity that will never fade.

I am a child of the Most High God
In him is my identity and whom I laud.
I am his beloved son in whom he is well pleased.
It is by his love my soul is forever seized.

I am not worthless as I sometimes believe.
I am not what I don't do or fail to achieve.
I am of the highest value to the only one.
I am a prince of the king, his beloved son.

We’ve had a consistent message at church and at a men’s retreat. God has been reminding us of our identity. We are not worthless, but worthy; not unloved, but unconditionally loved. We need to release our shame and embrace who we are. We need to walk in our true identity as a child of God.

Parenting With Love: Modeling Kindness Your Children Can See

Parents preparing together while two children sit nearby in a cozy living room

Children are always watching — and what they see shapes who they become. This poem explores the quiet but powerful ways parents model behavior, attitudes, and values for their kids, often without realizing it. If you’re thinking about how to raise compassionate, kind children, this one’s for you.

Parent's Be Aware

Beware what you despise,
Your children see it in your eyes.
Be mindful of whom you shun,
For they are watching, every one.

Who do you welcome into your life?
Who do you treat with love or strife?
Do you see the person, not the skin?
Do you welcome those who don't fit in?

Your children pay attention.
They notice more than you might mention.
They see the kindness that you show
And the attitudes you don't always know.

So treat others as you would want to be treated.
Let kindness and compassion be repeated.
For the gifts you give your children each day
Are found not only in what you say.

When you love those who aren't the same as you,
Your children learn what love can do.
Be true to yourself, your family, and God
And let your life show the path you want them to trod.

What This Poem Is About

Children absorb parental attitudes and behaviors more than they absorb words. Whether we realize it or not, we are teaching our kids how to treat others, what to value, and how to respond to the world. Parents are their first and most powerful teachers, shaping not just what children know, but who they become.

Teaching Children Kindness Through Example

Parents are teaching our children things we are not aware we are teaching. Children learn from our behaviors.

Being intentional as a parent means modeling empathy, love, and positive behavior in our daily lives. When we choose kindness in our interactions and children witness it, we teach them far more than any lecture ever could. Children and empathy go hand in hand — and they learn it best by watching us model compassion for others.

Want to explore more about parenting with intention, building character in your children, and creating a home filled with kindness? Check out my full posts on what you’re unknowingly teaching your kids and How Parenting Habits Shape Children’s Views on Race and Others. Discover more resources on parenting, kindness, and raising thoughtful, compassionate children.

Lenore Captured: A Dark Fantasy Poem from a Narrative Series

Person in dark coat standing before rough ocean waves and coastal cottage

The Capture of Lenore

North of her home by the black sea

Inside of caves dark and gloomy

That hide the good 'n' conceal the free

The hope lay of secrets to be


For peace evermore


And up and down the elf folk go

To gaze where the cold winds blow

Around the shale rocks there below

Keeping gems only a few know


The Island of Damore


Evergreens whiten, aspen quiver

Cold breezes rock and shiver

From the sea that runs forever

By the island near the river


Flowing down to the shore


Silent filled days of endless hours

Sealed gray walls, under gray towers

Overlook tundra void of flowers

And the silent isle embowers


The Elfin Lady Lenore


Where creatures of evil shadow

By mystic spell do not to know

The winds of war do not dare blow

Through the peaceful blue rivers flow


On the Island of Danore


Protected from any dangerous band

What man has seen her wave her hand?

Or at the entrance seen her stand?

Is she remembered in her land?


The Elfin Lady Lenore


Her only love, fair and brave, Altiny

Long ago left to meet his destiny

To the dead pools of Restiny

Bearing her ring of destiny


Of the Crimson Northern Shore


Slaves of the Dark Lord search to know

Where the peaceful blue rivers flow

To hide the elf in caves below

From the eyes of evil shadow


The Elfin Lady Lenore


By the dark the creatures weary

Seeking places restless and eerie

Through lands swampy, dark and dreary

'Til by chance capture a fairy


Of the Crimson Northern Shore


“There she hides by night and day

A mystic cave of colors gray

Near the river by the blue bay”

In a whisper they heard her say


On the Island of Danore


She knows not what her fear my be

And so she sings songs steadily

Of hope that she will soon be free

Little other pleasure has she


The Elfin Lady Lenore


By night the Dark Lord's creature came

To her island with burning flame

They descended like lighting 'n' rain

Seeking Lenore 'n' her ring of fame


On the Island of Danore


Cursed where the creatures when they found

Lenore laying on the cold ground

Without an emerald ring around

Silent she would not make a sound


The Elfin Lady Lenore


Still alive creatures carried away

From the dark caves of color gray

To Dark Lord's realm of slow decay

For her Love she would not betray


The Elfin Lady Lenore

This dark fantasy poem is part of an ongoing fantasy poem series—each installment is a self-contained tale that also weaves subtle allusions to the others, creating a tapestry of epic fantasy poetry and deeply connected fantasy stories that will ultimately form one complete narrative.

For Further Reading

This is one in a series of fantasy poems

Jesus Crucifixion Poem: Knowing the Price Love Had to Pay

Three crosses on a rocky hill overlooking mountains at sunset depicting the price love had to pay

Knowing The Price Love Had To Pay

On a hillside called Calvary
Hung the King of the galaxy,
Raised in garden-walled gallery,
Fruit filled branch; the root of Jesse,
A shepherd of sheep gone astray.
For the sin filled earth below
Where up and down the people go
To wherever the breezes blow
This was the price love had to pay.

Faces white, angels quiver,
Icy breezes quake and shiver,
Through the night that runs forever
Flows Jesus' blood like a river,
Flowing downward for love's display.
Criminals hung on either side
Overlook the place where we abide.
With silent tears His Father cried.
This was the price love had to pay.

His hands and feet were tightly nailed.
By the garden, women wailed.
The King of Kings last breath exhaled.
In eyes of men, the King had failed.
Like sheep His friends scattered away,
But who had known what God had planned;
The cost His justice would demand?
What love we failed to understand!
This was the price love had to pay.

Woman waking, coming early
Did see a light shining brightly
And heard songs that echo cheerly
From the angel speaking clearly;
A hope for sheep who went astray
To the wicked with burdens weary;
A light of hope to the dreary;
Joy for the burdened and teary;
This was the price love had to pay.

Alive He waits by night and day
For all under the dragon's sway.
He calls to those who've gone astray.
The curse is lifted when we pray
To Him who died; our debt to pay.
He longs to set the captives free
And so He stands by steadily
For those who come on bended knee
Knowing the price love had to pay.

Now we see through mirror unclear
That hangs before us all the year.
Shadows of the world appear.
In us He abides always near
Reaching down to those far away.
From Him the water of life flows.
Our sins and waywardness He knows.
To the broken, mercy He shows
Knowing the price love had to pay.

Sometimes life is sweet and hearts glad;
A painted rose on empty pad;
A love struck lass with handsome lad;
A young flower in crimson clad;
Full contentment of love's display
And sometimes through nights dark and blue
The troubles come riding two and two.
The King remains loyal and true
Knowing the price love had to pay.

In His love we will still delight
As He weaves His plans for the night;
For often through the silent frights
At funerals with tears and fights
Content to have our love's display.
Even when death hangs overhead
And days are filled will fears and dread
Our faith hangs on by just a thread
Knowing the price love had to pay.

We cry to Him in darkest grief
When we find no other relief.
Hope comes dazzling in our belief
And flamed upon the brazen Chief
To those who have gone far astray.
We come to the cross bent and kneeled;
To the King and His shield.
We come with nothing and we yield
Knowing the price love had to pay.


This poem about the crucifixion of Jesus reflects on the suffering, sacrifice, and resurrection of Christ which was one of the most profound events in Christian faith. I wrote it as as a devotional piece. It is ideal for Good Friday, Easter, or any season of spiritual reflection. If you were moved by this Christian poetry, explore more faith-based writing on this site. The price love had to pay was never cheap — and poetry gives us one of the few lenses that can hold that truth without shrinking it.

This poem was included in my blog about Charlie Kirk. I thought it fitting since Charlie’s faith was central to who he was.

Epic Fantasy Poem: The Battle for the Emerald Ring and Elves

Epic Fantasy battlefield with armored warriors, archers, a dragon, castle, and glowing emerald ring

The Battle of the Emerald Ring

In the days of war between men and elves

No battle was greater before or since

Than the battle for the emerald ring

Rumored to be held by an elfin Prince



“The power of the ring belonged to elves”

Was overheard in a tune the pixies sing

By a mighty warrior 'n' ambitious knight

Who above all desired to be a king



Prideful lust for power consumed his thoughts

To reign supreme was his denied birthright

Divinations ‘n’ sorcery couldn’t reveal

The site of the prize he sought with all might



With determination to guard the ring

Pixies and wizards used spells to conceal

The emerald ring’s secret elfin owner

So the knight and Dark Lord struck a deal



For aid in gaining his emerald prize

Princess Lenore must be the prisoner

Forever in the Dark Lord's hidden realm

The Dark Lord would become the knight's crowner



The emerald ring lay protected and safe

Inside the palace of the cold northern shore

Owned by the benevolent but strong king

Of the passive, peaceful elves of Restore



War raged again upon elves who wouldn't fight

To stop the hope inscribed upon a ring

Fearless woodland elves and dwarf knights of old

Arose to aid the northern elfin king



Axes swung and arrows flew for ten days

Blood froze and hearts became fearful and cold

Woodland elves and dwarf knights could not prevail

The ring departed its protective fold



Princess Lenore escaped to a safe place

For twenty-two days and nights she would sail

On the seas to the west where she could hide

In dark caves covered by protective shale



Lenore remained hidden and safe for years

Until it was again safe to abide

In her palace on the cold northern shore

Where she would become a peacemaker bride



The lustful knight was furious with rage

The emerald ring had escaped with Lenore

Many elves lost their life that vengeful day

The cold coast became a blood stained red shore

Fantasy Poetry Series

This poem is part of an ongoing series of fantasy poems. Each installment is a self-contained tale that also weaves subtle allusions to the others, creating a tapestry of deeply interconnected stories in the tradition of dark fantasy poetry, ultimately forming a single complete narrative. In fact, many readers who enjoy fantasy poetry for its haunting atmospheres and themes will like the series. Exploring themes of power, sacrifice, and magic, the story draws heavily on motifs often seen in dark fantasy poetry.

For Further Reading

This is one in a series of fantasy poems

Beyond the Trial and Tragedy: Grieving Three Children, A Father and A Mother in an Angry America

Cora, Callan, and Dawson Clancy in 2023

Weeping

On January 24, 2023 an unthinkable tragedy happened. A five year old girl, a three year old boy and a eight month old baby boy were strangled to death. Stop. Think about that for a moment. Three innocent children died. Consider this: Who is the most important person in a child’s life, the one they run to for help when hurting, scared or in need? Who? Mommy, Mama, Mom, Ma, Mother.

The person kids need the most in their early years, the person they trust to nurture, to care, to feed, to help, to comfort is their mother. Yet, this person whom a child trusts more than any other is the very person who took life from them, not in a quick, easy way, but slowly choking the breath from them. The very breath of life left these three children, taken by the one who had brought them into this world, whom they loved, trusted, and admired more than any other person in the world.

I love children. I’ve volunteered for decades, helping, teaching, and playing with children. Now I’m a father of two wonderful girls. Since they were babies, I’ve cared for them, held them in my arms, read to them, played with them, fed them, and protected them. I cannot imagine ever being deprived of them. I would do anything, including sacrificing my own life, to protect my kids.

Nothing grieves me more, nothing breaks my heart more, nothing is more tragic than children dying, than children being harmed. I cannot comprehend how anyone could purposely harm and murder a child. It is incomprehensiable to me.

Media

I’ve seen bits and pieces of the news, the social media posts, and read arguments. This country is mad with protests. People are fighting over a trial. I cannot comprehend the focus of the news and posts. Three children died. Three children were murdered. Three beautiful, innocent children left this world. Yet people are fighting. Where is the grief, the lament, the sadness, the hurt? That is what I feel about this tragedy. I feel a deep sense of sadness. My eyes are full of tears as I write this. Three children died. I weep.

Is anyone else weeping?

A Father’s Loss

I’m a dad. I love my kids. That doesn’t just mean I feel a sense of warmth and affection. It means I would sacrifice anything for my kids. I sacrifice my time, my money, my attention, my very life for my kids. They are more precious to me than anything else in this world. I could not imagine life without my kids. Should anything happen to my children, I would be devastated.

When my nephew was eighteen months old, he stopped breathing. He was resuscitated and had to be helicoptered away to a hospital in Chicago, 60 miles from where he lived. My mom called me at work. I dropped everything and drove immediately to the hospital. My heart was breaking for my nephew, my first nephew.

             Almost

Oh precious child not even two,
How it hurt to almost lose you.
Seeing you lying on that bed,
Alive but appearing nearly dead,

Was more than we could endure,
We feared we might loose you for sure.
By your side constantly we stayed.
As we held your little hand and prayed.

"Oh Lord of heaven and earth,
From the day of this child's birth,
To us, such happiness did his life convey!
Please, don't take our little one away!"

We are so thankful you are still around.
Happiness in our lives once again abounds.
We rejoice that you are still here
And that we can again hold you near.

We are thankful that you could stay
And that the Lord didn't take you away!

My cousin had an eighteen month old baby boy. His babysitter did something you never ever do to a baby. She shook him. My cousin’s baby boy, Shawn, died. I was devastated. Though I had only met Shawn once, I held him in my arms with only warmth and love in my heart. His death was painful.

A somber image of small empty children's shoes evoking loss and grief
To Shawn

When a child dies,
It seems the world cries.
Sweet innocence this day
Has been taken away.
All souls are filled with sorrow,
Making it hard to go on to tomorrow.
Everyone feels such sadness,
Wondering why this horrible madness.

What makes this day even worse
Is that this painful curse
By such violence came to be.
It's hard to grasp such absurdity.
When a little baby dies,
It seems the world cries.
Sweet innocence this day
Has been taken away.

Shawn’s baby sitter, in a fit of rage, shook and threw him when he was 18 months old. He died a week later on Feb 24th 1994.

On January 24, 2023 a father lost three children. I feel his pain. I would be devastated beyond comprehension.

Does anyone grieve for the Daddy?

The Mommy

This mother tried to commit suicide. She was in such pain that she thought it better not to live than live with her pain. She was afraid to raise her kids and thought it better they should not live than be raised wrong. You can debate her sanity. For myself, I don’t understand how a mother could do such a thing to her kids and herself. I grieve.

My dearest friend committed suicide in my house. He had not properly grieved the loss of his own mother. He was delusional and paranoid. I had gotten him to agree to go to a day program where he could receive counseling, but then he wrecked his car. While in the hospital, doctors convinced him to get psychological treatment and admit himself. He left with a plan which included living with me in my spare room and attending the day program.

I went to work. A mutual friend checked on him and found him unconscious. He had taken all his prescription pills. An ambulance took him to the hospital and doctors pronounced him dead on arrival.

That was over twenty years ago. Still, I can’t understand why my friend was in so much pain that he would end his own life.

When I was in the midst of fighting for my friends life, I wrote this:

Depression

A lone figure by a rain-streaked window conveying isolation and depression
I don't know what to do for you.
I'm at a loss.
I've paid the cost.
I've tried and tried.
I think a little of us has died.
I don't know what to do for you.

I made my body a wall
To stop you
From harming you.
I've tried and I tried
And then you nearly died.
I don't know what to do for you.

Help me. Show me how to help you.
I'm at a loss
You're the boss.
I've tried and I tried.
I've fought and I've cried.
I don't know what to do for you.

After he committed suicide, I wrote this:

The Suicide of a Friend

A single candle and wilted flower evoking grief and remembrance


Three long weeks we fought
for your life.
Three long weeks we sought
to be your savior.

But you were beyond
our power.
You were too far gone
to be saved.

The person you once were
Was already gone.
The person we wanted to cure
Had already died.

We are all deeply hurt
By what was done.
Our souls are in a desert
Asking "why this?"

Still we know in our hearts
This was not you,
Who chose this life to depart
It was someone else.

The man we loved so deep
Had left us
Long before eternal sleep
Laid you to rest.

We will remember the man
Who helped so many.
We will remember the man
Who loved so freely.

We will remember the man
Who bound us together.
We will remember the man
Who unites us now.

We will not say
"Good-bye, dear friend"
But rather "until we meet again,
One sweet day."

I don’t undestand why my friend ended his own life. I grieve. Why a mother would kill her own children? I don’t understand . I grieve. Why she would try to commit suicide? I fail understand I grieve.

Fighting

Our country is so divided. We were the greatest country in the world. We were the UNITED States of America.

The Civil War and Reconstruction transformed the nation by physically restoring the Union and legally redefining it around freedom and equality. Although we were divided over slavery, the war and its aftermath created a new sense of unity. Before the American Civil War, people often said, “The United States are…” treating the nation as a collection of individual states. After the war, the phrasing shifted to “The United States is…” signaling a new sense of a single, indivisible nation. This unity was complex: while the 13th Amendment ended slavery and preserved the Union, it also brought a stronger federal government and a consolidated national identity.

Admittedly, it wasn’t easy. The time also ushered in decades of intense political, social, and racial struggles during the Reconstruction era as the nation figured out how to actually live out that unity.

I fear that is all ending. We seem more divided than ever perhaps toward a new cival war. This trial is a further demonstration of the disunity. It seems no one is listening. We have brief social media posts on both sides. People comment without knowledge. We are operating from our own paradigms. Instead of researching the truth, we respond. We don’t think. Instead, we let the media tell us how to think. We already have our preconceived notions of what is right and respond accordingly.

The Other Side

For convictions, we fight
so confident we are right.
Anger and aggression
without pausing to question
the pretexts of our certitude.
Rigid in our attitude.

It’s time we look inside
rather than trying to hide.
The fault and failure lie within
over our own self-centered sin.
Cease blaming others and God!
Let go of the deceptive facade!

Examine and evaluate,
consider convictions to abdicate.
Seek first to comprehend
what enemies apprehend.
Replace anger and apprehension
with charity and comprehension.

It breaks my heart that when children die, we don’t pause as a nation to grieve the loss. Instead, we fight.

We mask the pain by blaming:

  • We blame the mother.
  • We blame the father.
  • We blame the medical profession.
  • We blame the justice system.
  • We do anything to avoid looking at our own hearts.

Are our consciences so seared that we would rather fight than grieve the loss? What is wrong with us? What is wrong with our nation? We should have stopped, lowered our flags, declared a day of mourning and fasting. We should bend our knees to our creator and beg for forgiveness, that our country would be so far away from our God-given purpose, that a mother would kill her babies.

Conflict

In a world of deceit and lies,
We rage in fiery fury.
With no time we hurry,
Never pondering, lest we revise

Our venerated held convictions.
With itching ears we hear,
Only what we hold as dear
Though they are mere fictions.

Halt the conflict we create!
Understand the other point of view!
Examine what you think is true!
Seek to love over hate!

A cracked earth landscape symbolizing division and conflict

When will we weep over our country? When will we look inside and ultimately repent of the evil within our own hearts?

I grieve for our country and I pray. Will you join me or will you continue to strive and fight further dividing out nation?

The Fall of Restiny: A Fantasy Ballad of Love and Vengeance

Armored knight on horseback approaching a glowing castle through a moonlit forest

The Fall of Restiny

Good King Restiny was a man of great renown

His gifts of love and selfless deeds knew no true bound.

Among both men and elves, none other wore that crown.

His heart was pure

His wisdom sure

His ways secure

Restiny

Mighty King and lord

Valiant with the sword

Cherished and adored

Restiny

He believed that valor was doing what was right

And great power did not come best by fear nor might.

Virtue and love made his very spirit ignite.

The valor of the elves

Is love beyond ourselves —

A love that reaches others,

As though they were his brothers.

Love and virtue,

Noble and true,

Always abide

In these your guide.

The king knew the elfin songs since he was a boy.

The friendship and teachings of the elves were his joy,

Wisdom which such good and prosperous kings employ.

Riches are never found in gold

True wealth is neither bought nor sold

Charity yields a hundredfold

True friends remain when you are old.

Value what you know to be true

Never let the darkness subdue

Let virtue be what you pursue

And your love will always renew.

King Restiny’s pride and joy was his firstborn son.

The king loved, cherished, and adored his little one.

For his son, there was nothing he would not have done.

My heart is calling

Tears are falling

For my son

My One

Love

Learn from me

What should be

What is true

Virtue Do

When his beloved young son became severely ill,

He sought healing with every ounce of his will,

By every potion, charm, and healer’s skill.

My first son is dying.

My spirit is crying.

My heart is kneeling.

Where do I find healing

For my beloved young one,

For my precious first son?

Within the healing pond

Of Elfin King Elmond

In the land of Restore

Upon the eastern shore

Healing is found for men and elves

If their love is beyond themselves.

Restiny began the treacherous journey east

Not fearing goblin, troll, wizard, nor dragon beast

Firm hope drove him onward. He could never be ceased.

Driven to find the healing pond

Of gracious Elfin King Elmond,

Restiny pressed on, once more,

To see his firstborn son restored.

Though goblins pierced with poisoned darts,

Striking deep at Restiny’s heart,

He would not be stopped in his quest

Nor would he stop to take a rest.

Hysteric, Restiny reached the eastern shore,

Where healing waters shimmered — the Pools of Restore —

And there, his lifeless son held tight in his embrace,

He begged the ancient pool for one last saving grace.

Our pond has the power to mend,

Even when life is near its close,

But it can never quite transcend

Death, for death is where life goes.

My son, my son, my son,

My dearest, my beloved one,

Your life had just begun,

Too soon your race was run.

It was there that King Restiny was driven mad

Because of the intense, passionate love he had

For his firstborn son who had died along the way.

King Restiny’s poisoned heart swore the elves would pay.

His heart was impure

His wisdom unsure

His ways insecure

Restiny

Mighty king and lord

Valiant with the sword

Feared and abhorred

Restiny

Further Reading:

One in a series of fantasy poems.

How to Use Poetry in Home Education: A Complete Guide

Worn Selected Poems beside a pen and eyeglasses

Benefits of Using Poetry in Home Education

Poetry can be a wonderful addition to a home education because it gives children something that many other forms of writing do not: freedom to play with language, ideas, sounds, emotions, and imagination.

When children write prose, they are usually expected to communicate their thoughts in complete sentences and organized paragraphs. Poetry can loosen those boundaries. A poem might rhyme, repeat words, break grammatical conventions, use unusual imagery, or even invent words. Children can experiment with language simply to see what happens.

That freedom can make poetry less intimidating and more enjoyable while developing important skills in reading, writing, vocabulary, creativity, observation, and communication.

I have experienced this freedom in my own poetry. Some of my poems are highly structured, while others are much more conversational. Some use rhyme extensively, while others depend more on imagery and ideas. This variety is one of the things that makes poetry so valuable for education.

Experiment With Language

One of the simplest benefits of poetry is that it allows children to play with words.

Rhymes, rhythms, repetition, alliteration, unusual word combinations, and even nonsense words can become part of the creative process. Children begin to notice not only what words mean but also how words sound together.

A child might start with something as simple as:

The cat sat next to the rat.
How fun is that?

There isn’t much literary sophistication in those two lines—and that’s precisely the point. A young child has discovered that cat, sat, and rat sound alike and can be combined to create something amusing.

This poem I wrote many, many years ago, based on a true story. It’s a fun a poem that younger readers should enjoy

Peepy, Poopoo, Potty

The adult was the one who started
With a joke that included a person who farted
Which started the kids laughing before the punch line.

Then they all took their turn on stage
From oldest to the youngest of age
Telling jokes about farts, poops and pots.

The children laughed and giggled loudly
As each had a turn at being a star proudly
Simply telling their jokes and being silly tots.

When the three year old's turn came
He did not pause to think but merely exclaimed
'Peepy, Poopoo, Potty!'

And got the biggest laugh of all.

As children become more comfortable with language, they can begin experimenting with more complicated combinations.

For example, in my fantasy poetry, I created names and words that fit the poem’s imaginary world. In The Battle of Elmond, I use names such as Restiny and connect the name to the word destiny. The poem tells how the Pools of King Elmond eventually became the Pools of Restiny after men came seeking their own destiny.

This kind of wordplay can become an excellent homeschool activity. Ask your child:

  • Can you invent a character with a name that has a hidden meaning?
  • Can you create three words that rhyme with the character’s name?
  • Can you make up a word and explain what it means?
  • Can you write four lines in which every line ends with a rhyming word?
  • Can you tell a story using words that begin with the same sound?

Children are learning about phonics, vocabulary, spelling, rhythm, and sentence construction—but they are also having fun.

Poetry turns language into something children can experiment with rather than memorize.

Discover Rhythm and Rhyme

Poetry also teaches children to hear the rhythm of language.

Consider the difference between ordinary prose and a rhyming poem. In prose, we generally concentrate on communicating the idea. In poetry, we become much more aware of the sounds and patterns of the words.

For example, I often use rhyme in my poems. In my poem Senses of the Soul, I have this stanza.

Warm days fill us with delight
As dawn breaks into the light.
Colorful flowers bloom and grow
As the cool breezes blow.

The rhyme isn’t merely decoration. It gives the poem a pattern that helps the reader anticipate what comes next.

Children can discover this themselves by experimenting with different endings:

The dog ran down the street.
He thought the world was pretty neat.

Then challenge them to change the rhythm:

The little dog went running down the street,
His tiny paws went pitter-patter feet.

They can hear that poetry isn’t simply about finding words that rhyme. It is also about how the words move when we read them aloud.

Reading poetry aloud is therefore particularly valuable in homeschool education. Encourage children to clap the rhythm, emphasize certain words, experiment with pauses, and read the same poem in different ways.

Create Sensory Imagery

Poetry gives children an opportunity to turn an idea into a picture.

Instead of simply saying:

The waterfall was beautiful.

a poet might write about crystal water falling into a quiet pool.

In The Great War Between Men and Elves, I describe an imaginary landscape using colors, architecture, water, flowers, and movement:

Scarlet and violet flowers
Accenting gold and white towers,
Encircled by pools of green and blue,

The purpose is not simply to tell the reader that the setting is beautiful. The descriptive language encourages the reader to see the scene in their imagination.

This is an excellent exercise for children.

Take an ordinary object—a rock, a tree, a cup of water, a snow-covered window—and ask the child to describe it without naming it.

  • What does it look like?
  • What color is it?
  • What does it feel like?
  • Is it warm or cold?
  • Does it make a sound?
  • Does it have a smell?
  • What does it remind you of?

Then turn those observations into a poem.

This teaches children to pay attention to the world around them. They begin to discover that ordinary things can become extraordinary when we look closely enough.

One of my poems, Importance, grew out of precisely this kind of observation. My daughter stops to examine things that I might otherwise hurry past—such as an ordinary stone or a piece of trash. What looks insignificant to an adult can become fascinating to a child.

Poetry can help children recover that sense of wonder.

There Is No Single Right Answer

Poetry is flexible and personal.

A child doesn’t have to produce a poem that looks exactly like the teacher’s example. Two children can be given the same subject and produce completely different poems—and both can be successful.

  • One child might write four rhyming lines.
  • Another might write free verse.
  • Another might write a humorous poem.
  • Another might write a serious poem about how the subject makes them feel.

That freedom can be especially valuable for children who become frustrated when every writing assignment seems to have one “correct” answer. I’m a mathematician, but my daughters complain about math. One mistake and the whole problem is wrong. It is devastating. Poetry doesn’t have the problem. Poetry can be free from rules, unstructured, and creative.

Of course, poetry can have rules. There are sonnets, haiku, limericks, ballads, and many other poetic forms with specific structures. Learning those forms can be educational in itself.

But structure doesn’t eliminate creativity.

Even Shakespearean sonnets follow recognizable rules while allowing tremendous variation in vocabulary, imagery, ideas, and emotional expression.

In writing poetry, children can therefore experience both structure and freedom.

They can learn the rules of a particular poetic form and then discover how creatively they can work within those rules.

Or they can put the rules aside and write.

Both experiences have educational value.

Emotional Freedom

Writing Poetry

Poetry can also give children a safe way to explore emotions. I often express my feelings with poetry. In trying to process my dad having cancer for the second time, I wrote this poem:

Out of the Depths

Sometimes situations make no earthly sense,
The pain is sharp and the darkness dense.
We climb deeper into our hole of despair
And can barely grasp for any air.

Looking at the wind and the waves, we sink
Our hope, faith, and trust are on the brink
Of slipping into the depths of the stormy sea.
In desperation, we cry to be set free.

It is then that Hope reaches down His hand,
Encouraging us to take our final stand.
Looking up into Love's tender eyes,
We find the strength and courage to rise.

This poem uses the imagery of darkness, storms, sinking, and rising to express despair and hope. The emotions aren’t presented simply as a list of statements. They are communicated through images:

Sometimes situations make no earthly sense,
The pain is sharp and the darkness dense.

The poem eventually moves from desperation toward hope and courage.

It is then that Hope reaches down His hand,
Encouraging us to take our final stand.

Another example is My Dad, which expresses love, gratitude, memories, and admiration through a series of descriptions of a father who was present, loving, firm, gentle, and influential.

These poems illustrate an important educational principle: poetry allows us to express what we sometimes cannot easily explain.

Children sometimes have difficulty explaining complicated feelings in ordinary conversation. A poem gives them another way to communicate.

They can write about happiness, sadness, anger, fear, disappointment, friendship, loneliness, hope, love, or confusion without having to explain everything directly.

Reading Poetry

Reading poetry offers another dimension of emotional education. A child may read a poem and understand it differently from another child—or differently from the poet who wrote it. As a poet, I’ve experienced how people understand my poems. I’ve read their comments and seen that they interpret the poem through their own paradigm.

Every reader brings experiences, memories, beliefs, and emotions to what they read.

This doesn’t mean every interpretation is equally supported by a poem’s words. But it does mean that poetry can open the door to meaningful conversations:

  • “What do you think the poet is feeling?”
  • “What makes you think that?”
  • “Have you ever felt that way?”
  • “What picture came into your mind when you read this?”
  • “Would you have described the feeling differently?”

These questions encourage children to think beyond simply identifying the “correct answer.” They learn to support their interpretations with evidence from the poem while also recognizing that another reader may see something they missed.

Poetry Encourages Observation, Reflection, and Wonder

One of poetry’s greatest gifts to a homeschool education is teaching children to slow down and notice things.

Poetry asks us to pay attention to a word, a sound, an image, a feeling, or a moment.

That can be especially valuable in a culture where distractions constantly surround children.

In Importance, I contrast the hurried perspective of an adult with the slower, more observant perspective of a child. My daughter sees wonder in ordinary things while I am focused on getting somewhere. The poem ultimately asks whether adults sometimes miss the beauty around us because we are too busy.

That makes poetry more than a language exercise.

It can become an exercise in attention.

A child who learns to notice the color of the sunset, the sound of rain against a window, the shape of a cloud, the texture of tree bark, or the expression on someone’s face is developing the raw material of poetry—and also developing the habits of a thoughtful observer.

Poetry teaches children to look at the familiar and ask:

  • What am I missing?
  • What else could this mean?
  • How does this make me feel?
  • How can I describe it in a way someone else can experience?

Those are valuable questions far beyond the poetry lesson.

Choosing the Right Poetry for Different Ages

One of the advantages of poetry is that there is a form for almost every age and reading level. Parents don’t have to begin with difficult, serious poetry. In fact, some of the best introductions to poetry are playful, funny, rhythmic, and even a little silly.

As children grow, their exposure to poetry can grow with them. The goal isn’t necessarily to move from “easy” poetry to “hard” poetry, but to introduce children to increasingly varied ways of using language, imagery, structure, ideas, and emotion.

Young Children: Rhyme, Rhythm, Humor, and Imagination

For younger children, poems with rhyme, repetition, humor, animals, nature, nonsense words, and strong rhythms are often a natural place to begin. The goal at this age is to help children enjoy the sound and playfulness of language.

Fun Poetry

Dr. Seuss is an excellent example. His books demonstrate how much fun children can have with rhyme, rhythm, repetition, invented words, and unusual sound combinations. His poems don’t simply tell children what words mean—they let children experience what words can do.

Shel Silverstein is another wonderful choice. Poems such as Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too invite children into a world where the ordinary rules of reality can be set aside. The poem’s playful rhyme, rhythm, repetition, and fantastic imagery demonstrate that poetry doesn’t always have to make literal sense to be enjoyable.

Edward Lear provides another excellent introduction through nonsense poetry. His poems demonstrate that language can be funny and imaginative even when the situations described are impossible.

This kind of poetry gives children permission to laugh, imagine, and experiment.

Other good choices for younger children include poems by A. A. Milne and Jack Prelutsky. Edward Lear’s nonsense poetry, in particular, shows children that words can be enjoyable even when they describe things that could never really happen.

At this stage, don’t worry too much about explaining every poetic device. Let children hear the rhythm, repeat favorite lines, laugh at the humor, and notice the sounds.

Biblical Poetry

But children can also be introduced to biblical poetry at a young age.

Psalm 23 in the King James Version is particularly accessible because it uses familiar images: sheep, green pastures, still waters, paths, a valley, a table, and an overflowing cup.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

Although A young child may not understand every theological or poetic detail, they can understand the pictures. They can imagine green grass, quiet water, a shepherd, and sheep.

Parents can ask simple questions:

  • What pictures do you see in this Psalm?
  • What does a shepherd do for sheep?
  • What do you think “still waters” means?
  • Which image do you like best?
  • Can you draw the scene described in the Psalm?

Psalm 23 also introduces children to an important aspect of poetry: it can communicate ideas through pictures.

The Psalm doesn’t simply say, “God takes care of me.” It gives the reader a picture of a shepherd caring for his sheep.

That is poetry.

Discussion

You can ask simple questions:

  • What part did you like best?
  • What words rhymed?
  • Can you make up a silly word?
  • Can you write a poem about a ridiculous animal?
  • Can you make up a character who lives somewhere impossible?

The child is already learning about language and poetry—even when they think they are simply having fun.

Elementary-Age Children: Imagery, Nature, Storytelling, and Figurative Language

As children become more confident readers and writers, they can begin exploring sensory imagery, figurative language, nature poetry, storytelling, and simple poetic forms.

Robert Frost is particularly useful at this age because his poetry often begins with things children can understand—a road, a snowy evening, a wall, a tree, or a walk through the woods—and uses those familiar subjects to explore deeper ideas.

For example, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening offers opportunities to discuss the sights and sounds of a winter landscape while also reflecting on the speaker’s thoughts and responsibilities.

Frost can help children see that a poem can be about something ordinary on the surface while suggesting something much deeper beneath the surface.

Children can also explore Emily Dickinson, whose short poems often use nature and everyday observations to explore larger ideas. Her poems can be especially useful for teaching children that a poem need not be long to say something significant.

At this stage, children can begin identifying:

  • Similes
  • Metaphors
  • Personification
  • Repetition
  • Alliteration
  • Rhyme
  • Rhythm
  • Sensory imagery

They can then try these techniques themselves.

For example, after reading a poem about winter, ask the child to describe snow without using the word snow. What does it look like? What does it sound like? What does it feel like? What could it be compared to?

This turns literary analysis into a creative exercise.

Older Elementary and Middle School: Form, Voice, Humor, and Meaning

As children grow, introduce them to poets who demonstrate a wider range of poetic forms and subjects.

Shel Silverstein remains valuable even for older children because his poems often contain surface-level humor while raising interesting questions beneath the surface. A funny poem can still encourage children to think about responsibility, consequences, imagination, relationships, and human behavior.

Robert Frost can be revisited at this age as students become better able to recognize symbolism and multiple meanings.

Students can also explore poets such as Langston Hughes, Walt Whitman, Christina Rossetti, William Blake, and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

This is a good age to introduce more formal poetry.

Children can experiment with:

  • Haiku
  • Limericks
  • Ballads
  • Narrative poems
  • Acrostics
  • Sonnets
  • Free verse

They can also begin comparing poets.

  • How does Frost describe nature compared with Dickinson?
  • How does Silverstein use humor differently from Dr. Seuss?
  • How does a poem with strict rhyme and meter feel different from free verse?

These comparisons help children understand that poetry isn’t one particular style. Poetry is a broad form of expression with many voices and possibilities.

Teenagers: Deeper Themes, Symbolism, History, and the Human Experience

Teenagers can begin exploring poetry that explores more complex themes, including identity, relationships, morality, suffering, faith, responsibility, death, hope, injustice, and the human experience.

This is an excellent time to introduce William Shakespeare, particularly his sonnets. Shakespeare provides an opportunity to study poetic structure while also exploring timeless subjects such as love, beauty, aging, jealousy, time, mortality, and human nature.

Students can learn that a sonnet has a recognizable structure and rhyme scheme without every sonnet expressing the same idea or emotion.

Robert Frost can also be revisited at this level. Poems that initially seem like simple descriptions of nature can become opportunities to discuss symbolism, choices, responsibility, isolation, and the passage of time.

Teenagers can also explore poets such as:

  • William Shakespeare — sonnets, love, mortality, time, human nature
  • Robert Frost — nature, choices, responsibility, symbolism
  • Emily Dickinson — mortality, nature, faith, isolation, perception
  • Langston Hughes — identity, dreams, race, hope, and American life
  • Walt Whitman — individuality, nature, humanity, and American identity
  • Edgar Allan Poe — beauty, grief, death, atmosphere, and the darker side of human experience
  • William Blake — innocence, experience, morality, imagination, and spirituality
  • Christina Rossetti — faith, love, sacrifice, temptation, and mortality
  • T. S. Eliot — modern life, spirituality, uncertainty, and meaning
  • Rudyard Kipling — character, responsibility, courage, and perseverance

At this age, poetry can become a bridge between literature and philosophy.

Instead of simply asking, “What poetic devices did the author use?”, parents can ask:

  • “What is this poet saying about life?”
  • “Do you agree?”
  • “What evidence in the poem supports that interpretation?”
  • “Has the meaning changed for you after reading it a second time?”
  • “How might someone with a different life experience interpret this poem?”

These questions encourage teenagers to move from identifying literary techniques to thinking critically about ideas.

Don’t Be Afraid to Read the Same Poet More Than Once

Parents don’t have to abandon children’s poets just because children get older.

A child may laugh at a Shel Silverstein poem when they are eight and discover something entirely different in the same poem when they are thirteen.

The same is true of Robert Frost, Shakespeare, and many other poets.

One of the wonderful things about poetry is that we change as readers.

A poem we barely understand at ten may become meaningful at fifteen. A poem we enjoyed simply because it rhymed when we were young may reveal a deeper idea when we encounter it again years later.

That is one reason poetry is worth keeping in a child’s education over the years—not as a subject that children eventually “graduate” from, but as a form of literature they can continue to discover.

Sometimes a poem should be enjoyed.

  • Read it aloud.
  • Laugh at it.
  • Talk about the images.
  • Notice the rhyme.
  • Ask what the child thinks it means.
  • Then, when appropriate, dig deeper.

Activities to Incorporate Poetry in Homeschooling

Poetry does not need to be a separate, formal subject. It can easily be woven into other areas of a homeschool education.

1. Nature Poetry

Take a nature walk and have your child collect observations rather than objects.

Ask them to write a poem about what they saw, heard, smelled, or felt.

2. Five-Senses Poetry

Choose an object and describe it using all five senses.

This is a simple way to introduce sensory imagery.

3. Rhyme Challenges

Give your child a word and see how many rhyming words they can find.

Then challenge them to use those words in a poem.

4. Nonsense Poetry

Let children invent words.

What does the word mean?

How is it pronounced?

What words rhyme with it?

Can they write a poem using their invented vocabulary?

5. Poetry from History

After studying a historical event, ask your child to write a poem from the perspective of someone who experienced it.

This combines creative writing with history.

6. Science Poetry

Choose something from a science lesson—a planet, animal, chemical element, cell, weather event, or ecosystem—and turn it into a poem.

This encourages children to process what they have learned rather than merely memorize facts.

7. Rewrite a Poem

Read a poem together and ask your child to rewrite it from another character’s perspective.

How would the story change?

What would that character see or feel?

8. Poetry Journaling

Keep a poetry notebook where children can write whenever inspiration strikes.

Not every entry needs to be polished.

The notebook can be a place for experiments, observations, silly rhymes, serious thoughts, unfinished poems, and ideas for future writing.

Resources and Tools for Educators

Parents don’t need an elaborate curriculum to begin using poetry at home.

A good poetry education can start with a collection of age-appropriate poems, a notebook, something to write with, and a willingness to read together.

My own poems can also provide examples for parents who want to show children different approaches to poetry—from fantasy and storytelling to family memories, nature, faith, and reflections on life.

You can use a poem in several ways:

  • Read it aloud.
    Listen for rhythm, rhyme, and repeated sounds.
  • Talk about it.
    Ask what the child notices and what they think the poem means.
  • Visualize it.
    Ask the child to draw a picture of what they see as they listen.
  • Analyze it.
    For older students, identify metaphors, similes, rhyme schemes, meter, symbolism, and poetic structure.
  • Imitate it.
    Write a new poem using the same structure but a completely different subject.
  • Respond to it.
    Ask the child to write a poem expressing their own response to the original.

The goal isn’t simply to teach children how to identify poetic devices.

The goal is to help them discover that words are tools they can use to think, imagine, create, observe, and communicate.

Poetry permits children to play with those tools.

And that is one of the reasons poetry deserves a place in home education.

An Epic Fantasy Poem of Elves, War, and Destiny

Enchanted forest lake with a glowing chapel among trees and mountains

The Battle of Elmond

Among the chronicles of old 
A tragic elfin tale is told.

How the Pools of King Elmond, 
Which held the mystic healing pond, 
Became in time the Pools of Restiny, 
When men rose up to claim their destiny.

Long before the war of men and elves,
Beyond waves crashing upon rocky selves,
Its swirling waters, calm and grand,
Gave healing at King Elmond's hand.

Passive, peaceful elves of Restore 
Dwelt in peace along the eastern shore,
And shared the pool's slow healing grace 
With man and elf, from every race.

In search of fame and destiny,
From the west came King Restiny, 
Whose men desired that grace for their own, 
And marched to make its power known.

With iron chains, with spear and sword, 
In fearsome hordes his men were poured
Across the land in search of fame, 
To bind the pool unto his name.

The peaceful elves would not take arms 
Against the men who sought their charms; 
They had no wish for war or strife, 
Only to heal, to tend to life.

Their wizards called on spirits old
To hold the line against the men so bold, 
But spells alone could not defend 
Each elf from war's uncaring end.

By blade, and by the mystic spell,
Both men and elves alike, they fell, 
Until the pool of Elmond's hand
Lay drowned in blood upon the land.

The Pools of peaceful King Elmond, 
Which held the mystic healing pond, 
Became the Pools of Restiny — 
Men paid in blood for their "destiny."

Noble souls of both kinds died; 
The pools became where the dead abide...
Until the day when the heir, Altiny, 
Grandson to the conquering King Restiny, 

Would rise to choose a nobler destiny
Whose grace and charm would lead to lenity. 

This is one in a series of fantasy poems