Front Unguarded

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Front Unguarded

Poem — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #98

The woes of self come clustered or alone
Like a troop or a loner by honour bound,
To hold them in abeyance is our mission
Or fall proudly when our limbs are bettered.

Oh, but seldom alone come woes of kin
For by our cares are the fears multiplied,
Their wounds real or unreal are by us borne
For heir of our flesh is a front unguarded.

Shield all here that is feeble and vulnerable,
So I supplicate Thee O my Sire venerable!