FATHER
AND CHILD © John Grey
How sorry is the blood-soaked creature
or his ancient mentor in the cave?
Bone and flesh litter the way
from beast to tutor, a wobbling, weary,
frail
shadow of disillusion
through a wretched yellow dawn.
Guilt lingers in its step.
Surely this is not what the master wanted.
So
many paths, says the wise man.
So many ways to redemption.
Finally, dripping crimson,
it curls up in the father's chest,
hungry
for the most meager praise.
All is silent but for heartbeats,
the one, clear, persistent,
the many, scattered, deranged.
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