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Jeremiah Denton, a Navy pilot who was held captive in the Hanoi Hilton during the Vietnam War, understood the need for the comforting presence of a heavenly parent as he endured a hell administered by heartless demons. He wrote poetry, memorized it, recited it to other pilots who in turn memorized the lines, and like stealth bombers the words of comfort would fly about the camp, undetected by Satan's emissaries.
On Easter of 1969, he wrote a poem titled "La Pieta." "La Pieta" is any poem or statue or similar piece of artistic expression that depicts the crucified Jesus lying on the lap of his mother, embraced in her arms. Once the poem became a part of the camp's vernacular, Denton was designated as the president of the Optimist Club.
The soldiers stare, then drift away,
Young John finds nothing to say,
The veil is rent; the deed is done;
And Mary holds her only son.
His limbs grow stiff, the night grows cold,
But naught can lose that mother's hold,
Her gentle, anguished eyes seem blind,
Who knows what thoughts run through her mind?
Perhaps she thinks of last week's palms,
With cheering thousands off'ring alms
Or dreams of Cana on the day
She nagged him till she got her way.
Her face shows grief but not despair,
Her head though bowed has faith to spare,
For even now she could suppose
His thorns might somehow yield a rose.
Her life with Him was full of signs
That God writes straight with crooked lines.
Dark clouds can bide the rising sun,
And all seem lost, when all be won!
As Abraham knew that one day he would be liberated and his children would number as the stars in the heaven, so Denton and the others held captive at the Hanoi Hilton knew their day of liberation was coming.
On Easter of 1969, he wrote a poem titled "La Pieta." "La Pieta" is any poem or statue or similar piece of artistic expression that depicts the crucified Jesus lying on the lap of his mother, embraced in her arms. Once the poem became a part of the camp's vernacular, Denton was designated as the president of the Optimist Club.
The soldiers stare, then drift away,
Young John finds nothing to say,
The veil is rent; the deed is done;
And Mary holds her only son.
His limbs grow stiff, the night grows cold,
But naught can lose that mother's hold,
Her gentle, anguished eyes seem blind,
Who knows what thoughts run through her mind?
Perhaps she thinks of last week's palms,
With cheering thousands off'ring alms
Or dreams of Cana on the day
She nagged him till she got her way.
Her face shows grief but not despair,
Her head though bowed has faith to spare,
For even now she could suppose
His thorns might somehow yield a rose.
Her life with Him was full of signs
That God writes straight with crooked lines.
Dark clouds can bide the rising sun,
And all seem lost, when all be won!
As Abraham knew that one day he would be liberated and his children would number as the stars in the heaven, so Denton and the others held captive at the Hanoi Hilton knew their day of liberation was coming.
