At the beginning of last week, my son came home saying he had volunteered to read part of a poem in a school collective worship; the poem was called
The Hope-o-potamus. Whilst listening to him read his lines, I began to think and I wondered, “Who do we know who is being like the Hope-opotamus and needs our encouragement? And, Where in our lives might we be more like him too?”
I won’t answer this question now, however, I leave you with the time and space to reflect on the poem;
The Hope-o-potamus
In a drought, in the dust, in a dry river bed
A sad hippopotamus hung his grey head.
He’d had nothing to drink since the start of this week.
If he didn’t find water things could get quite bleak.
The hippo was sad and the hippo was hot.
But did he sit down and give in? Of course not!
He remembered the words of a wise old giraffe,
That he’d heard long ago, when he’d been a young calf:
‘There’ll be times in your life when your road will be tough.
You’ll be tempted to say that you’ve had quite enough.
‘There’ll be people that try and convince you to stop,
And you’ll feel that you’re just about ready to drop.
But those are the times when you’ve got to keep moving,
And with every small step you will see things improving.
Just point any way that seems hopeful to you,
You move one foot forwards, then foot number two.
Then follow this up with your other two feet,
Then return to foot one, and repeat and repeat.
Remember these words,’ said the wise old giraffe,
To our hero the hippo, when he was a calf.
So the hippopotamus nodded his head.
‘I’ll keep plodding and see where I get to,’ he said,
And he look all around at the arid terrain,
And thought, ‘Will I ever find water again?’
Ahead, a high mountain rose up in the distance.
It looked rocky and steep, but with hippo-persistence,
He decided he’d walk it ‘til he had overcome it,
In case there were better things over the summit.
First he came to a desert, which wasn’t too handy.
It was hard to walk through, rather slippy and sandy.
A camel was sitting on top of a dune,
And it told the hippo, ‘You absolute loon!
Turn around! Go back! Or you’ll look like a chump.
There’s no water this way, except this in my hump.’
But the hippopotamus shook his head.
‘Just a bit further,’ he boldly said.
One step at a time he continued his journey,
Till he came to a jungle – dark, dank, green and ferny.
The jungle was thick and the creepers were creepy,
And a large sloth hung down from a branch looking sleepy.
‘This forest… it goes on for miles,’ he said, yawning,
‘Why don’t you just hang here with me till the morning?’
The hippo – though tempted – again shook his head.
‘Just a bit further,’ he bravely said.
He plunged on through the jungle, and after a while
He arrived at the mountain – the ultimate trial.
Poor hippo was tired, almost giving up hope.
But – one step at a time – he pushed on up the slope.
The mountain was rocky and strewn with huge boulders;
Then stones hurt his feet and the sun scorched his shoulders.
A lion sat there on a rocky outcropping,
And the lion called out, ‘You’re much better off stopping.’
But the hippopotamus shook his head.
‘Just a bit further,’ he proudly said.
His heart was so heavy, his feet were so sore,
But he climbed and he climbed – one step, then one step more.
And, just when he was feeling ready to drop,
He finally realised that he’d reached the top.
And a splendid sight met his eyes when he looked down:
A wide muddy waterhole, gleaming and brown.
He could see lots of sploshing – someone was there bathing.
A hippo! A friend! And they seemed to be waving.
And the hippopotamus nodded his head.
‘I’m glad that I chose to keep going,’ he said.
Then a voice from behind him called out, ‘We were wrong!’
The lion, sloth and camel had followed along.
And the animals cried, ‘You’re more brave than the lot of us.
Hip hip hooray for the hope-o-potamus!’
The Hope-o-potamus written by Greg James and Chris Smith.
