November 19, 2017

The Family, Part One

A trilogy of poems by Chaplain Mike.

I. The Younger

Here I am, father, at the eleventh hour once more,
Reaper’s scythe poised to harvest fruit of seeds I’ve sown.
Shamefaced, knowing full well the paucity of yield,
I slump low with downcast eyes, near resigned to table bare.
And perhaps this is that Hand–
Why should I escape heaven’s natural law?
What special exemption is stamped upon my page,
Faithless wayward child?

Yet something is that tells me I should rise,
Brush off the slop I’ve fed (which now appears my hope!)
Confess my riotous disregard of wisdom, prudence, love,
And manfully take up servitude low, secure.
I dare not hope for more!
Surely your face is turned toward those toiling well.
Surely you dine with those compliant, true,
Who honor the name they bear.

What right have I to hold within my heart
The slightest hope of more than stern offended gaze?
A rendezvous from which I shrink, besmirched and chastened;
And yet, am willing to accept my due.
So haltingly I walk–
Yet one more turn ahead before the sight.
Yet one more bridge to cross, a boundary long transgressed.
At sound of distant cry I lift my eyes.

Comments

  1. Wow! That was wonderful! Thank you so much for posting it!

  2. I 2nd that, a very cool read! Thanks for posting!