This upstart shepherd boy, of no account
except that he is handy with a sling,
presumes too much. The daughter of the King
he may not covet, much less may he mount
thereby the throne of Judah. Let him keep
his place! I have a son. Let this boy dare
forget his station, I'll return him there:
he may do what he wishes with this sheep.
This upstart, in defiance of the Law
of Moses, came from nowhere to upset
my house. I know I never shall forget
or banish from my dreams the thing I saw:
My son endured this shepherd's touch upon
his face. My son kissed him. He kissed my son.
November 9, 1977
[This is one more poem from my Quadragesima project, a series of poems on subjects related, often tangentially, to religion.]
