Reflections from Pastor John Cao is a series of poetry and writings from the recently released Chinese Christian prisoner of conscience exclusively published by ChinaAid. The piece below was written on March 29, 2024 and has been minimally edited for clarity. To read more of Pastor John Cao’s poetry, one can purchase the collection written while he was imprisoned, Living Lyrics: Poems from Prison.
Looking Back on the Years
Helping the suffering refugees with kindness, strength depleted, heart torn apart.
The church united in effort, gathering swiftly like galloping steeds.
The path was full of hardships, enduring humiliation, life elevated.
Moving heaven, earth, and people, yet only servant was confused.
Police shoot cold arrows, prosecutors secretly digging pitfalls.
The court playing dirty tricks, punishing severely without evidence.
Hating my selfless dedication, with a fierce look on the face.
Attacking the Lord’s church, the craziness thoroughly going mad.
Learning patience without complaint, loving neighbors with sincerity.
Seven years of refinement, exerting effort and marching forward again.
Reading deeply, wisdom gradually maturing, fighting for every second of lost years.
Seeing the desperate end approaching, yet flowers bloom on the long, great journey ahead.
The road stretches on beneath the feet, praises hummed from the mouth.
Where to go in the vast unknown, voices crying for help after falling.
Visiting all families, finally shouldering the one lost sheep.
Great efforts in raising infants, with plenty of milk and food.
Frequent harassment from heretics, prepared to test the sword’s edge.
When facing trials of water and fire, talk and laugh with ease.
Who can’t make judgments? Righteousness surpasses the level of literati.
The orchard overgrown with weeds, picking stones and diligently plowing.
Enduring hardships yet joyful, iron bones ringing loud and clear.
The colors of spring can’t be contained, peach and plum branches heavy with abundance.
An undertaking for eternity, Words of the Lord as the standard measure.
All roads lead upwards, joyfully reuniting upon returning home.
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Knocking on the door, my heart is excited.
The ocean breeze blows in from the boundless horizon.
As the waves roll and surge, I pray for blessing and protection,
Crossing thousands of miles to seek kindred spirits and connection.
Looking Toward the SOuth of the River
Hoist the sail, as the whistle gradually grows louder,
Yesterday’s old course abandoned behind,
The cabin’s clutter completely thrown out,
Polishing the long-idle oars.
The strong men arrive, steering through the waves with ease,
Feeling sharp, borrowing the wind to sail swiftly,
Nimbly turning to avoid hidden reefs,
It’s still early, don’t drop anchor yet.
