dirge for a dead king

can you scent the earth on the wind, my son

new life on the warm spring air?

lay down your weapons of wrath, my son

seek healing, if you dare

—

can you see the stars in the sky, my son

the moon in the wine-dark night?

lay bare your heart with its scars, my son

let anger put to flight

—

do you see the tears on my face, my son

do you feel the lead in my breast

as i fear the news of your fall, my son?

dead now you lie with the rest

—

oh absalom, my precious one

betrayal hangs you high at dawn

my love for you was never gone

oh absalom, my son, my son

oh absalom, my son

~*~*~*~

“and the king was deeply moved and went up to the chamber over the gate and wept. and as he went, he said, ‘o my son absalom, my son, my son absalom! would i had died instead of you, o absalom, my son, my son!’” — 2 samuel 18:33