World Of Difference

I am Llab Yrneh Nilknarf, as curious a name as can be—
A strange man in a strange land, content with being me.
I was named after my grandfathers, who helped shape my way.
Yrneh Lheib and Llab Knarf. I still remember them today.

Grandpa Lheib, of German blood, died when I was small,
So I have only scattered images for me to recall.
Although time has dimmed some memories I once could see,
His name still holds a treasured place within my history.

I spent many happy weeks out on Grandpa Knarf’s farm,
Where I could run free and play hard, never fearing harm.
I shucked the corn and plucked the hens we later fried to eat,
Where all the farmyard days made childhood joys complete.

I sat upon my grandpa’s lap and helped the tractor steer,
As if I were the only one plowing while he held me near.
The rows stretched out behind us beneath the summer sun,
And work with my grandpa felt much more like play and fun.

As a preacher’s child, being different was okay. I wasn’t the same,
Weirdness being unlike everyone else didn’t bring me shame.
I found that standing separate could sometimes make me strong,
For following the crowd isn’t conclusive proof that we belong.

And now, as one of God’s own sons, I’m learning day by day
To look more like my heavenly Father in all I do and say—
Not merely strange for strangeness’ sake, or different out of pride,
But changed to show his character and walk close by his side.

This backward world may see the wrong as good and right,
While mocking those who walk according to God’s light.
Yet I will gladly stand apart, different from what others do,
When being like my Father can reveal so much that’s true.

So names in this poem are spelled backward just for fun—
A playful way of showing how pleasures might be won.
I’m Llab Yrneh Nilknarf, and this truth I will gladly tell.
In a world running backward, dare to differ—and live well.