More like You

The year 1815
And a prisoner
Of the French gallows,
You paid 19 years
For stolen
Bread.
Parole
Brought you
To God.
You became
A mayor in Montreuil-sur-Mer,
A saint
Among the trash
And sorrow,
Parisian sewers
And philosophy
Of the
French Revolution.
Your guilt
Propelled
Your miserable life.
On the run
Committed to your crime
But set upon redemption,
You were
Dedicated
To the girl,
A daughter,
You never had.
A sad
Lonely light
Fleeting in the fog
And filth,
You fought
For the people.
Revolution.
Yet hunted
By your both your conscience
And Javez,
Your parole officer,
You eluded the law
With the light
Of God.
You died
In her arms
A Saint.
Why can't the world
Have more like
You,
Jean Valjean?
Someone good,
Against
All
Odds.
Proof
Of God.