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The Mother of Billy the Kid
by
James Richardson |
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When she suckled Billy at her breast,
--quietly she struggled and survived
--most men's commitment contrived
the Irish lady revealed her best.
When she toiled without complaint,
--did she shape a man or a coward?
--was it fate or evil that overpower'd?
a modern gilded lily she ain't.
When Billy swung leather to face death,
--was his mother in his thoughts?
--his belly in knots?
time must hold its breath.
When Billy's sentence cast a spell,
---the judge's admonition a dread
---hang until dead, dead, dead!
Billy raged, go to hell, hell, hell!
When Billy whispered "quien es?" unaware,
--with Pat Garret in the shadows
--did Billy fear the gallows?
the spirit of his flaxen-hair mother was there
...but someone was absent.
When Billy wildly sought a surname,
--McCarty, Antrim, and Bonney
--his mother a rock, caring and funny
he longed for identity, not fame
...but someone was absent.
When we imagine, if we possibly can,
--a patient mentoring father to engage
--a strong guiding hand to rope the rage
not to remember the legend but Billy the Man
...absent no more.
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--Submitted by J.S. Richardson on 2012-06-26.
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