“The Son”
I’d wondered and struggled and wept,
Many values thought taught,
Watched decay of the lot,
Voiced wild cries, filled with pain that was kept.
Then love, toward my dismay it crept,
Saw the troubles I’d fought,
To accept him or not,
On my soul threw its might as it leapt.
It circled and stored up its time,
Then quickly struck anger and won.
True, saw all the grime.
Yes, knew what he’d done.
But no matter his crime,
He’s my son.
