Oh Blessed Ram, we gather near the hillside wind,
Humble watchers of the path you chose.
You stood upon the stone above the valley
Where cold water once ran clear.
Your horns crowned the morning sun,
Your breath rising in the quiet air—
A simple life of grass and sky,
A shepherd of your own wild freedom.
Oh Blessed Ram, we sing of the day the river changed.
The stream still glittered like silver thread,
But shadows flowed within it.
You bent your head to drink,
Trusting the mountain’s ancient promise.
Yet the water carried the dust of distant factories,
And careless stains of human craft.
Soon the strength in your stride grew thin.
Your bones ached beneath your wool,
Your breath came slow upon the slope.
The meadow watched, the wind listened—
And we feared the mountain would lose its guardian.
Oh Blessed Ram, we watched you seek help among men.
They placed bright lights above you
And spoke in tidy rooms of dosage and relief.
They offered small tablets in little bottles,
A quiet bargain with suffering.
“Take this,” they said.
“Let your pain grow softer.
Let tomorrow resemble today.”
But your eyes burned brighter than their sales pitch.
For you had seen the river,
And you knew the poison would return.
Oh Blessed Ram, seeker of science fact.
You turned from tradition and studied the marrow of life.
In lonely barns and hidden valleys
You traced the language woven through every cell—
The code that tells horn to curl
And wool to grow
And blood to carry breath.
You dreamed of change within yourself:
A body strong against the tainted stream,
A stalwart savior raised by wisdom’s hand.
Yet the valley filled with voices.
“Stop,” they cried.
“The order of the world must remain untouched.”
“Do not trespass where creation began.”
“Do not become what only heaven may be.”
Their droning echoed through the hills.
But courage is not the absence of thunder;
Courage is the will to keep walking when the sky pours.
Oh Blessed Ram, you walked onward.
You mapped the genius script inside your bones.
You rewrote the fragile line that sickness found.
And slowly your strength returned—
Hooves firm on granite,
Eyes brighter than the glacier sun.
You drank again from the river.
This time the poison found no home.
And the watchers among humankind stared in awe.
For they saw that the answer you forged for yourself
Could heal their own wounded blood.
The cure they feared became the cure they needed.
The hills remember.
The river carries your legend.
So we gather beneath the turning stars,
Voices rising like wind across the grass:
Oh steadfast guardian of the mountain path,
Oh fearless mind that questioned fate,
Oh horned pioneer of living knowledge—
Oh Blessed Ram, enlighten us!
~~~
“Oh Blessed Ram’s Courage” is a poem by Timothy Bradbury © 2024. “Ram Courage” artwork by Timothy Bradbury. Narrated by Jeff Vanderbilt.
But courage is not the absence of thunder;
Courage is the will to keep walking when the sky pours.
~ Timothy
