Friday, Bloody Friday

 

 

            Ireland, May 25, 2018

 

I heard the news today, poor boy

You will not see the sunlight,

Will never hold a toy

 

Not born once, won’t be born again

Can you be born to God

Who will not be born to men?

 

I don’t suspect they’ll raise a cairn

You had no right to life

So your death will cause no alarm

 

And you won’t even get a grave

What’s not born is never buried

What’s unfound may not be saved

 

There is no sum can count the cost

Their pockets may be deep

But deep enough to hide the Cross?

 

They passed sentence on your soul

The same 6th day they killed Our Lord

Will Our Lord yet make you whole?

 

Pray God will baptize you in blood

Where the ends of the rainbow meet

Where the water subsides to love

 

2 comments

  1. Mark,

    You always give us poetry that is thoughtful, thought provoking and masterfully crafted.

    The personification you employed brings an awful pain and a sharp focus.

    Sarah

    Like

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