Sore.
Unlike earlier, before we knew you were you were no more.
Before the last battle you were carried through the stable door
by the lion, whose roar
brought forth
the world, who separated south from north.
And whose deeds at the stone table are worth
trusting – even as the donkey brays
that he cut short our little ones’ days.
But we know his word says
that we’ll meet again even if our ways
in this world are four score
and
Sore.
