Oh, Lord, forgive Thou me,
Not as Thou forgavest Thy children, Eve and Adam.
They tremble still
Behind the trees of Eden,
In awe of Thy mighty strides.
And they clutch the stolen green fruit
In their small hands.
Oh, Lord, forgive Thou me,
Not as Thou forgavest Thy son, Cain
Thou didst not want his corn,
But Thou accepted Abel’s herd.
So Thou provoked Cain’s jealousy
And put a dagger in his fist.
Oh, Lord, forgive Thou me,
Not as Thou forgavest Thy children, the people of Noah.
Thou punished them with such a mighty flood
That to this day
The crow which was sent
To bring news from land
Has not yet returned.
Oh, Lord, forgive Thou me,
Not as I forgave my son, Azad.
He woke up at midnight, demanding milk,
But I denied him
To break this nightly habit.
He began sobbing,
And I put my hand on his mouth
To silence him.
Deep in his eyes
I felt the sound of Adam’s children,
Who for centuries have moaned
Under the wrath of their own god.
Oh, Lord…
Nay, thou my son, forgive thou me
Forgive me.
January 4, 1991
The English version of this poem was first published in Muddy Shoes (Beyond Baroque Books, 1999) and then in Father and Son (Red Hen Press, 2003) both by the author.
