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Poetry
Mother to Son
Bruce Dawe

We did the best we could for you, you know ...
Neighbours and friends agreed (some even said
You did what you had to do then, even though
We still regret it all, and the dead
Are beyond our questioning); you were named
After that Maccabean hero to whose glory
All Israel paid respect - who could have blamed
You, Judas, if you'd followed him? Instead, the story
We must live with is: that our own son
Made possible, through his treachery,
The death of Him he loved, the One
Who died (for him, as well) on another tree ...
When we pass by that field your shekels bought,
Dear son, you are never far from us in thought.
Bruce Dawe

Reprinted from AD2000 Vol 20 No 9 (October 2007), p. 15 |