Let No Errant Bullet Find My Son–A Poem and a Prayer

Let no errant bullet find my son.

Let no screaming shrapnel shred his limbs

And mar a life that’s just begun.

Nor let the carboned dead curled in the sand

Begin to stir his mind into a bitter brew

Of fear, disgust, contempt for humankind.

Let his desert march through death’s shadow

Reveal to him not just what man to man can do,

But let him see the need for him to trust in You.



Kenneth Wayne Hancock

For his son, Joby,

A sargeant in Iraq,

3rd Infantry Division,

March 21, 2003



These words rushed into and out of a heart feeling vacant, lonely, and helpless that day.  War has a way of doing that to a man.  It puts things into a new perspective, far away from the bravado of foolish ego.  Being close to death does that to you–makes you come down off your high horse.  That this is good for the soul is one of life’s mysteriously sad ironies.  I felt this first hand in Vietnam and was feeling it again vicariously with my son that morning.


And so my only recourse was to call upon the Giver of life to become the Sustainer of life, the life of my son.  And He did answer this prayer.  KWH



Filed under poetry, prayer

2 responses to “Let No Errant Bullet Find My Son–A Poem and a Prayer

  1. LP

    Words to adequately express the depth of our love for our children are usually almost impossible to find.
    Your poem/prayer does a fine job of finding those words.

  2. wayneman5

    Thanks, LP, for your encouraging comment. Thanks for keeping in touch. Hope to see you soon. KWH

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