Remorse Ever Deep Poem by Odey Patrick

Child,
would you call me father
that made a murderess of your mother?
Would you listen to my rueful cry,
awhile?

Child,
i make no excuse for my crime
nor vindication be here my desire.
Yet i beg your ears,
dear child.

Child,
i'm sorry i threw the chance
to cradle your little body
and rub your tiny feet.
Hear your frantic cries
and stare into your cute eyes,
cooing to you lullabies.

Images of you flirt with my dreams
and on waking that voice haunts me still.
I toss and turn divorced of sleep
while yet i hear that sorrowful Voice ringin still.


Sent from the womb to the tomb,
flushed down the loo.
I ache in loss
for a sin so gross
and stand rightfully grudged.

Child,
a night of passion
fierce with abandon
a gift collected but unwelcomed.
Denied opportunity,
by a fear of responsibility
How numbing this crushing guilt!

I combed the gutters
to where you lie slaughtered,
heart in hand before your alter.

Denied of life's romance
i dread your virgin vengeance.
Self-judged, i stand guilty
yet crave your leniency,
sweet Child.