To Keep the Wolves Away
My brave son of seven is leaving!
to spar with military jaws.
And I repeat, Lycurgis taught me these three laws:
to keep the wolves away: if I say three words today,
may they be concise and may they be brief-
"Equality, austerity, and military pay."
And stole my son at seven, a Thief.
Equality lives in every mothers' grief;
-' my son the soldier is fit and neat.'
Austere and upright, conditioned to bow and beat.
Yet, I remember seven years ago
his curls when I bore him to breast,
and fed him into a peaceful rest.
In the dark haze before sunrise, I awake to work.
Weave my sandals tight and high on my calves;
My tunic, short and stark, unadorned and Spartan.
I draw water from the well and bake the bread in halves.
One for me and one for him, to reconcile my every sin.
D.Goodman
Laconic contest
Copyright © Daisy Goodman | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment