Whither Our Republic?

 

 

 

Have we bitten off

More than we can chew?

Regarding the state of our Republic,

What is your view?

 

So much in our mouth

We don’t know what to do:

Whether we should try to swallow

Or out of our mouth spew.

 

There is much reform

At least, the talk of it,

And many fantabulous ideas

That do not fit.

 

Everything divides us:

There’s little or no consensus

And even to do the simplest task

There is much fuss.

 

 

 

A Government by the people

For some of the people

While marginalizing the vulnerable

Climbing a slippery steeple.

 

An occasional handout

Rather than a hand-up

While those elected to be servants

Enjoy all the luck.

 

One opposition member

In our Parliament;

Making a mockery of democracy

Though not the intent.

 

Several bits and pieces

With segregated voice

Making us more and more susceptible

To Hobson’s choice.

 

The writing’s on the wall

For a third time coming

When the electorate are galvanized

For the next polling.

 

 

 

A lower poll is likely

With another thirty-nil,

Just thinking about the outcome

Gives me a chill.

 

Who will cross then

To form the opposition?

And this is of course, providing,

It’s not then forbidden.

 

 

 

Twice it’s been tried

With little effect

And it seems this lone member

Will be also a reject.

 

A Republic we are

Since twenty, twenty-two

But still no Republic Constitution

To shape the Republic’s view.

 

“Twas a grand idea then

With the greatest PM ever,

And the prospect of a Republic

Appeared quite clever.

 

Minus the Constitution

To paddle the State along,

Upon all the objections to the same

The PM frowned.

 

Thus, we’re still attached

To colonial apron strings

And experiencing all of the fallout

This situation brings.

 

Appellation is deceptive

When it is just a name

And like that Sardis church community

It becomes a shame.

 

 

 

They appeared to be alive

But in effect were dead

And the fact we are headed thus

Is what I dread. 

 

Have we bitten off

More than we can chew?

Regarding the state of our Republic,

What is your view?

 

Punching above our weight

Was said of our Bim,

Can we still affirm this reputation

When it’s so grim?

 

 

 

Friends of all

And satellites of none!

Is this still our Nation’s reality

Or is it now done?

 

What kind of mirror image

Are we going after?

Is it some kind that will bring

Derision and laughter?

 

Some are already mocking

Given the state we are in

Saying, “how the mighty have fallen!”

Referring to Bim.

 

 

 

I call to your attention

Red Plastic Bag’s song:

I am referring to “Bim, I Love You”

And how we sang along.

 

When there was that pride

In doing things right

And when the leaders of Barbados

Demonstrated insight.

 

When industry was key

And buttressed by pride

And we could go about our business

Without having to hide.

 

When guns were on the TV

But not on our streets

And there were far more victories

Than recurring defeats.

 

 

 

Have we bitten off

More than we can chew?

Regarding the state of our Republic,

What is your view?

 

When the church mattered

With its Sunday school

And our several par-military groups

Were developmental tools.

 

When recidivism was low

And bail was nigh impossible

And a child taking another’s property

Was in serious trouble.

 

When the gap was wider

Between parent and child

Such that a parent’s instruction

Would not be defied.

 

When morals were standard

And clearly understood

And when it was not taken lightly

To spill another’s blood.

 

When politeness mattered

And did not seem strange

And a person saying good morning

Did not appear deranged.

 

When a salutation

Was fervently returned

And every one was given respect-

Not just earned.

 

Hence, to the stranger

And the youngest child

And to a person of a different view:

Respect, do not vilify.

 

 

 

Have we bitten off

More than we can chew?

Regarding the state of our Republic,

What is your view?

 

Stewart Russell © September 24, 2025

 

A Conflicting Conviction

 

 

Sounds confusing

You are probably saying

But read to the end

Before despairing.

 

He shall remain nameless

Until you work out his name,

This difficulty is not even close

To the actual claim.

 

Truthful it is

And I have no doubt

That any disputing

Will be finally thrown out.

 

He rose long before dawn

Maybe, he didn’t sleep,

His conflicting conviction

He intended to keep.

 

He prepared his mule

For the journey ahead

Knowing by the end of that day

His loved one would be dead.

 

The demand was ludicrous,

It didn’t make sense

But given his disposition

He took no offense.

 

It was not the first time

He was sent on a mission,

The very first time

He knew not the direction.

 

Back then it was his faith

That caused him to respond

And so on this occasion

He was up before dawn.

 

He called his son

And a few of his servants

And they set on the mission

Ignorant of the intent.

 

Had they known

They might have insisted

Their leader was mad

And probably resisted.

 

 

But he proceeded by faith

And they in obedience,

The burdened mule

His son and his servants.

 

It appears that his wife

Knew not of his plan

So in that case

She couldn’t tie his hands.

 

So early he set off

On his very strange journey,

A conflicting conviction

But he stuck to it firmly.

 

His only son

From his very old wife,

His child of promise

At the end of his life.

 

It didn’t make sense

Given the promise God made

But He gives and He takes,

Such are His ways.

 

A three days journey

Now at an end

So he said to his servants

It’s around the bend.

 

He instructed his servants,

“You remain at this point

While the boy and I worship

At a farther point.”

 

Taking the wood off the mule

He gave it to the lad.

“Where is the burnt offering?”

He later asked his dad.

  

God will provide

Was the father’s reply

Though he knew in few moments

His son would die.

 

I am sure you know

How this event did end,

With the benefit of history

We see around the bend.

 

 

But consider this father

For a moment or two,

He was not looking back

Like me or like you.

 

It happened in real time

As we would say today

And to understand it then

He had no way.

 

How was he to know

That this was only a test?

Obviously, if he had known

His mind would have been at rest.

 

He had no way of knowing

Yet he dared to obey

Where for many of us

We would have said, “No way.”

 

A conflicting conviction

Do you see what I mean?

Convinced it was God

But still a conflicting scene

 

A child of promise

Yet, the likelihood of his death

How could a father’s mind

Still be at rest?

 

We tend to forget

As we read the account,

It was not smooth going

All the way to the mount.

  

There must have been doubts

As he journeyed on,

He surely wasn’t eager

Because he left before dawn.

 

There are many similarities

I would not mention here

Between this father and God

That are certainly clear.

 

 

The wood and the cross

That both sons carried,

The locations on the mount...

They do not vary.

 

Both considered sacrifices:

One perceived, the other real,

One a demonstration of faith

The other rent the veil.

 

One a conflicting conviction

The second bought our redemption,

Faith need not understand

Just follow God’s direction.

 

The stalwarts of the Bible

As they underwent their tests

Were not often in the know

But obedience was their quest.

 

Conflicting convictions

But they learnt to trust God,

We must do the same

At home and abroad.

 

Stewart Russell © September 2019

 

Boxing Day

 

 

The rich have had their day

Today is for the poor,

Boxing Day is not about boxing-

Need I say more?

 

It was a day for servants

That worked all day Christmas,

These were in the employ

Of the rich and the famous.

 

Boxing Day could be said

To be poor people’s Christmas

Since on this particular day

They could have their fuss.

 

Gifts collected were boxed

And distributed to the poor

And these could enjoy themselves

Away from their usual chores.

 

So, today as you can see

Is really Christmas Day for me,

I should get my chance to celebrate

And have a Christmas spree.

 

Numbered among the poor

I eagerly anticipate my box,

You had your Christmas yesterday

But today I am taking the lot.

 

 

Cast off toys for the children

And a portion of your leftovers,

It would be really good, if you please,

To put in that ham shoulder.

 

That one from Christmas day

That was barely touched,

For my small household of eleven,

That’s not asking too much.

 

I will be back tomorrow

To do anything that you ask

But today that we call Boxing Day,

I’ll be away from such tasks.

 

Boxing Day was Christmas

But not for the rich and famous,

It was more for the lower classes

So they too could have a fuss.

 

 

Not so that first Christmas!

Those shepherds left their sheep

And they journeyed to Bethlehem

Where they found Jesus asleep.

 

The rich had no such privilege,

Theirs was two years later

Compared to the lowly shepherds

That saw him in a manger.

 

On that first Christmas morn

No, not on the Boxing Day,

The shepherds before the magi

Found Jesus who is the way.

 

 

That gift so crudely packaged

And distributed to the world

Was none other than the Saviour:

The eternal Living Word.

 

 

For he that was dead

Is alive and lives forevermore

And makes no distinction ever since

Between the rich and the poor.

 

For any that will come to him

Must first believe that he exists,

Just come to him in childlike trust

And in his cause enlist.

 

Then go and tell the world

Be it Christmas Day or Boxing Day,

Jesus is the reason for the season,

He is the only way!

 

Stewart Russell © December 26, 2023

 

Hair Is It

 

 

Of such breathtaking beauty

The women were sure to adore:

Of prestigious royal linage

And so much more.

 

Third son of his kingly father

And fairest of them all:

The apple of his father’s eye

The first name he’d call.

 

He had a beautiful sister

Whom a brother lusted after,

After she rebuffed his advances

He eventually raped her.

 

 

It took about two years

To avenge his sister’s rape,

At a party invitation

His brother took the bait.

 

There his brother died

But not by his own hand,

His servants were the assassins

In accordance with his plan.

 

Out of fear of his father

He ran away to Geshur,

There he stayed three years

Returning to Jerusalem after.

 

After two years of no contact

With his father he was reconciled

But this peace never lasted

As his father’s rule he denied.

 

He made himself a judge

And began to canvas the people

And promised them much

If he became king of Israel.

 

His followers grew steadily

And his father had to flee,

By treason he claimed the throne

But that ended in a tree.

 

  

While riding under a tree

 He was entangled by his hair

And while hanging from that tree

He was executed in mid-air.

 

David was king again

But great was his grief for Absalom,

His army’s morale was low

Though the battle they had won.

 

Much was going for Absalom

And he was flying high in the air,

However, pride goes before a fall

And his fall was his lovely hair.

 

 

Absalom’s hair was his glory

Samson’s hair was his strength,

However the problem for them both

Was not in their hair’s length.

  

Absalom’s eyes were out of focus

Samson’s eyes were forced out

But as to the cause of their blindness,

None of us should be in doubt.

 

It was not the hair but the eyes

Both of these men were blind,

Because they saw no further than self

They both ended up in a bind.

 

The moral of this poem is:

People may focus on your hair

But what you see is critical

Hence you need to take care.

 

 

Samson saw Delilah

Absalom saw his father’s throne,

The Bible is replete with similar;

These were not alone.

 

What is it that distracts you?

Conduct your personal quiz,

For you it may be something else

But for some, hair it is.

 

Stewart Russell © February 2019

 

Swallowing Pride

 

Mistake number one

He sent someone to me,

Mistake number two

It was a maid; that was funny.

Mistake number three

You wouldn’t believe,

It was the awful instruction

That I received.

Me, second to the king only

Can you dig this?

Dip in Jordan?

There must be something I missed.

And that wasn’t all

There was mistake number four:

Dip not one time

But six times more.

Back home in Damascus

We had Abana and Pharpar,

Compared to the River Jordan

These were cleaner by far.

I was so angry

That I just turned away,

I had come with hope

But it wasn’t my day.

I had heard about Elisha

A very great man indeed,

I had been convinced

That he could meet my need.

Surely if he had come out

And stood before me

I was definitely sure

He could heal my malady.

How dare he

Insult the second in command,

I can tell you now

That was not my plan.

  

That was it for me

Dip in Jordan?  Not a chance,

A dip in dirty Jordan

Couldn’t my skin enhance.

Just then my servants spoke

It was what they said,

Their words made sense

By them I was led.

One dip in dirty Jordan

But there was no change,

Two dips, three and then four

My skin still looked strange.

Down a fifth time

My skin looked no different,

If only you knew

How much this folly I resent.

I paused before the sixth

Then I took the dive,

My skin was still the same

My healing had not arrived.

Well I had dipped sixth times

Seven?  Why refuse?

I was now dirty all over

There was nothing to lose.

So down again I plunged

For dip number seven

And when I came up

That was like heaven.

I had never seen

Anyone’s skin so clean,

You could just imagine

With delight I screamed.

My pride was messier

Than the Jordan I’m sure

But for such an outcome

I could dip fifty times more.

Stewart Russell © May 2018