Poem Hunter
BC (January 28,1929 / Oakland, California)


... and he drank of the wine, and
became drunk, and lay uncovered
in his tent.

Naked, drunk, cursing God and man,
I rage against the way that it began,
This brave new world:
Eight souls adrift upon the endless sea,
Bearing the seed of all men yet to be.
Now, the pain and sorrow of countless unborn
souls weigh heavy on my conscience. I mourn
For them, for not to be is best, and I
Who long for death but am afraid to die,
Alone must bear responsibility
For those who drift upon this endless sea.

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Comments (1)

Good poem. God made one of the best leaders out of this drunk, naked, man. He works miracles in wonderous ways.