I, Crito

I, Crito



I came to you on the day of your execution
and begged of you, dear friend, to escape the
sentence which had been laid upon your head.
Meletus is a wrongful accuser and the jurors,
too thick headed and dense to know they
put a good and just man to death.

I came to you on the day of your execution
and you laid your brittle, aged hand upon my
shoulder thinking it was I who needed the
comfort. You rose your chin and with the voice
I’d made my drug from the very first moment
you spoke, you told me you were going to die.

I came to you on the day of your execution
and learned the final lesson you would teach
your disciples; and that lesson was courage.
For when you sipped from a cup the hemlock
that was to be your death, you did so smiling
and without hesitation or fear or regret.

I came to you on the day of your execution
and watched you walk until your feet went cold.
We laid you down and you spoke quietly of
the poison in your veins as it made its way to
your groin. Phaedo held you as you asked me to
take care of your debts; even in death you cared.

I came to you on the day of your execution
and cried as I asked if there were other matters
you needed taken care of and you remained silent
as you would in life for all eternity. You teach your
lessons now in the underworld and discuss politics
with Homer and your other beloved poets.

I came to you on the day of your execution
asking you to do a great injustice to the cause
you’d spent your whole life teaching to the youth
of Athens. Forgive me, my dearest Socrates, for
asking this injustice of you. I knew not of the ways
of the courageous, for I would have bowed to cowardice.

Written for "PoEtRy CoNtEsT - ROUND 10 - OPEN"   by Yellow Witch ~ Busybee .
This poem is about the great philosopher, Socrates, and written from the viewpoint of Crito who was his friend and student.