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Nov 2016
I hold your head with shaking arms
Eyes awake, unseeing
A crimson now is all I know
A curtain that veils my being
My son, asleep, so sound, so young
Lay still, awake, forever
I touch your brow a final time
As you dream into the never
My scepter strewn upon the floor
Scarlet seas, still, pool, engulfing
I hold your head within my arms
With eyes that now see nothing
I feel the tears come to me slow
And sense the crimson fade
As life filled tears fall from the mind
of the prince, so serenade
This poem is in reference to one of my favorite paintings - "Ivan the Terrible killing his son" by Ilya Repin. The painting immortalizes the moments after Tsarevich Ivan Ivanovich of Russia strikes his son Ivan in the head with his scepter in a fit of rage, killing him. Here is a link to the painting: http://i.imgur.com/7ssbb.jpg

I must also mention that I use the word "serenade" here to evoke either its french meaning or the words etymology. In brief, I use the word serenade to mean "serene" or "calm".
Yaser
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Yaser
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