The Son

Mother, don't hold me,
Mother, your caress hurts me,
See through my face,
How I glow and wane.
Give the last kiss. Let me go.
Send a prayer after me.
That I broke your life,
Mother, forgive me.

by Alfred Lichtenstein

Comments (3)

Sad rendition comparing soldier's death to the death of Christ. The gifts that were given were rendered back and thanks given for the millionth of the gift.
The soldier's prayer does not ask much for himself but it is entirely dedicated to his country. Lord, Thou didst suffer more for me Than all the hosts of land and sea.
Best poem ever written in my opinion. Joyce Kilmer is my favorite poet.