My son, my executioner - Donald Hall

Tuesday, June 11, 2013 at 8:30AM
Peter Neary-Chaplin in Poems, creative writing, fathers and sons, ministry of words, poem for the day, poems, spiritual poems, spiritual poetry, spirituality for men, thought for the day

My son, my executioner,
I take you in my arms,
Quiet and small and just astir,
And whom my body warms.

Sweet death, small son, our instrument
Of immortality,
Your cries and hungers document
Our bodily decay.

We twenty-five and twenty-two,
Who seemed to live forever,
Observe enduring life in you
And start to die together.

 

From Brother Songs: A Male Anthology of Poetry. Ed: Jim Perlman.

 

Article originally appeared on freelance, free-range writing (http://www.ministryofwords.com/).