Song for an Infant Son
O little man-child, sleeping on my breast,
I pray the carillons of peace will sound
Before the doleful drums disturb your rest;
Before a cross for you marks hallowed ground.
And yet my son, this grim, chaotic world
Whose greed's strong henchmen ride on crimson sod
Will some day see the flag of peace unfurled
And build a great imperium to God.
I wait the dawn to follow the dark night
Of horror, with the cross of Calvary.
You may behold, my son, the growing light.
One of the chosen builders you may be.
So sleep my darling, in your infant bliss,
For you may never feel the sword's sharp kiss.
Hon. Mention in IWL Contest