All the firstborn sons but one
fairy tales might take them
old testaments punishments
blood on the doors in the night
All the firstborn sons but one
have gone ahead as firstborn sons must do
have pushed their heads
blunt hard against the yielding dough
of days unending
have stepped each step onto such broken ground
have cut the trail for those to follow
who must follow
All the firstborn sons but one
have abdicated and the last uneasy
in the glare of grief
of everyone who watches
how must he carry his head
with him? how must he walk?
The secondborn have not before
stood clear of shelter
and are now stroked sick by the exposure
but everyone is seared
by sons who drop below the long horizon
into the night
Mikaela, such a fine poem and thanks are not enough. xx Kez
ReplyDeleteThe line - which was yours, was really a poem all of its own. It caught at me and I couldn't put it down without first making a place for it to lie. xm
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