Tuesday, June 4, 2013

What did he think?


What did he think that morning
When he set off
An act of infanticide
To commit
Did he wonder?
If God had blundered
Or perhaps, cruel despotic
Had become

Why should God
Who knows and sees
Break this father’s heart
What type of test was this
To sacrifice his son
Was God so insecure
He needed to be sure
He would give his only son

What did he think
When he raised that knife
What were his final words
Did he say to uncomprehending son
I love you, I love you more than life
And did he kiss those blood warm lips
For one final terrible time

Yet God the Joker
Sent a ram
In the thicket tied
Tis easier to slit the throat of beast
Than sons to watch them die
I wonder, as they walked together
Was trust as strong between God, the father and the son?

For those of us
For who no ram nor resurrection
Came to spare our sons
For us who kissed those blood warm lips
Grown cold with life’s extinction
For us who’ve raised the knife of grief
And felt it sear our hearts
We are the fathers of the broken hearts

And time may weld
The ragged seams of broken heart
But time will never heal
The wounding of our soul
We must bear with dignity
What rational thought cannot comprehend.
We are the father’s whose sons have gone

We are the fathers of the broken hearts

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