Wednesday, November 2, 2016

Song of the Autodidact

"Sangre de Christo", © 2016 David Prashker
To listen to an audio recital of the poem, click here

From my mother’s death
                              I learned
not to crave a sympathetic breast
 a loving heart
  a hugging arm
to shield me when the thunder pressed
 against my heart to do me harm
Pity those cradled in the nest

From my father’s treachery
                              I gleaned
notions of responsibility
     from his agnosticism
     from his rootlessness
          as all sons do
                    against their fathers
  until they are intellectually weaned
Pity those pinioned to the rock

From my friend’s convictions
                              I acquired
     from his books
     from his arguments
     from his Law
     from his creeds
     from his humility
(who after all knows anything he has not lived?)
     and I rejected his daily meal
          for a lifetime’s sustenance
Pity those shackled in the prisons of their knowledge

From my lover’s absence
                              I gained
my greed unsatisfied
  my lust unratified
    my passion through my loneliness sustained
Pity those suckled at the breast

From my God’s death
                              I extracted
guilt and innocence
  without the full price
   of repentance
Pity those rocked in the cradle of Paradise

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Copyright © 2016 David Prashker
All rights reserved
The Argaman Press

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