Published on the Ancient Paths Facebook page on March 23, 2019.
And so this thing is death, and this, the dead,
And this red blood that mingles with her tears
Covers my hand, my shoulder with its smears—
Oh, vilest stain that on our world has bled.
And so this thing is death, that we desired—
This grief, in quest of knowledge, once, we sought—
This torment, this anguish, our mocker brought;
And we have eaten, as the fiend conspired.
And so this thing is death, and so our son,
By our son slain, we carry to his rest;
O God! O God! Oh, what, what have we done?
Oh, why, why lies he with this common dust?
Death; death; and here my son lies dead.
And oh, the blood that stains my hands so red!