The Poem "Herod's Lament"
His
mouth still proclaims
the
Kingdom
I struggle to hate.
At every horizon
the Baptist's head rises;
his honey lips
drip bitter words
for my
soul is not pure.
"Blood that is shed
as a witness to truth
is like spring rain
to
hidden roots."
Tiny limbs that leapt mightily
at the coming
of the long awaited One,
I severed from the head
in haste
for a
dance that delighted and was done.
How long gone
is the thrill
of what we kept
for what we thought
we had
to kill.
And now my whole life
is a cringe
at the
platter brought in.
I see
his head turn on the plate.
His mouth still proclaims
the Kingdom
I
struggle to hate.
Mrs Simmonds is an award-winning poet.
She lives in Brooklyn, NY, with her husband and two children.
She lives in Brooklyn, NY, with her husband and two children.