The Song of Rachel

I stood and stared into my hands
As if they screamed out guiltily.
“I have no scorn nor reprimands,
A wild beast has taken him,” said she.

The mother, seeped in sorrow, clasped
The bloodied body to her breast –
The body seconds earlier had gasped
His final sobs, then went to rest.

No sound, but silence thicker than
The blackness of the bestial sea
Was there until she said again,
“A beast has taken him from me.”

She struck the heavens dumb with sighs.
“Some beast,” she sighed, “I know not whom –
She turned and gazed into my eyes –
Took the only child of my virgin womb.

“He took and tossed his life away
Like litter, a tempest-tattered bag.
He tore him with his teeth; he played
Him like a useless piece of rag.

“But I forgive. How was the beast
To know he was my only boy,
Who suckled softly at my breast,
Who gave my life its life – my joy!”

I watched the teardrops swelling in
Her ocean-eyes and trickle down
The whiteness of her cheek and chin
And fall like stones upon the ground.

I tried to solace her with words,
But she would not be comforted.
Her heart was pierced by seven swords
And in her arms her son was dead.

“A beast has killed…” and sorrow stilled
All words she might have said to me;
I stared into my hands, and guilt
Stared dreadfully like blood at me.