Even here I can hear his lonely cry,
Left on Taygetus to die. My son,
Judged too weak by those who seek
Perfection in the fighting Greek.
I must put from my mind how warm he felt
And how my heart would melt at the
Sight of his downy cheek.
Born too early, he was not meant for
The Spartan ranks, the warrior elite.
He is cast away before the burden of
His weakness can deplete our fame.
Now I must sacrifice to our Gods and pray
That before too long I will be gifted with
A stronger son. One who will take up
The Spartan shield and wield the Kopis
That his grandfather held when he fell
At Thermopylae. I know, too well,
Our sons are born to die, and yet,
My mind is plagued by that one brief wail,
So sharp and clear, borne by a mountain wind
From a child too frail to take up the spear.
© Susan E. Birch
Excerpt from the book Ancient Whispers
About the Author
When Susan was eleven years old a teacher, knowing her love of Literature and History, gave her a copy of The Complete Works of Shakespeare and a poetry anthology both of which changed her life. When she opened the book of poetry it naturally fell open at a page on which was a poem called ‘The Cloths of Heaven’ by W.B. Yeats. She read it and was stunned as it was the first time words had actually drawn a picture in her mind. Later, reading the book of Shakespeare, she found Sonnet 18’ and found the answer to why poets wrote poetry. From then on she was an avid reader of poetry and fell in love with the classical poets.
Visit Susan’s Author Page At: www.ctupublishinggroup.com/susan-e.-birch-.html