Father, Forgive Them -

They were crude days, when one faux pas would deem
the perpetrator no more fit to please
the ordered world and had him cast adrift
upon the sea of loneliness and shame

that came with failure. Down the fields of snow
their trail would lead them out into the woods
to their perdition – self-inflicted, true,
but none the lighter. Iron rules, as keen

as battle knives through leather, thrust by hands
well-versed in killing, ranked the merest sign
of disobedience high treason, deep
and sinister: a father to their men

the kings and overlords struck where it hurt
when their fool children strayed, and barred their doors
and sternly watched them wander off, like Eve
whose one mistake will never find reprieve.