Poetry

To My Son

To My Son, Depression…
My son in whom I travail…
You were conceived in the darkest hours of my longest life;
silent in there for so long that I never knew I was with you.
I remember your father; he was a man grey and forlorn….
his eyes were the deep blue shade of nothingness.

It wasn’t meant to be love at first sight.
It never was.
You see…your father won my heart slowly.

I would run to him when the world snarled at me.
He offered me a fool’s peace…
I felt safe in his profound arms.

He was always there, that man!
With bare hands, he built the new kingdom for us.
It was a castle streaming in twilight; the skies were destitute of stars.
The roof was laden with heartache and trauma.

It felt like the perfect world at that time.
It was the only thing that offered me peace.
Under the sheets of rejection, you were conceived.

You were the perfect baby…
Your eyes were a reflection of your father’s and mine…
The perfect symphony of sadness.

I loved everything about you…
I rocked you every night…
I abandoned you by day; the people of the world have not come to understand you.
You watched me live my life and you grew into a full grown man.
You loved me as I loved you…until you began to hate everything I would never be; everything I could never give you.
Now you seek to leave me in shreds…
with painful pangs of every type.

I hear the words you whisper into my ears every night…
You sneak out of your little room to bring devastation on me.
You are not the little boy I raised…
You’re not the man I hoped you’ll be.

Tonight my son, I’ll show you to the world…
Perhaps they will end your life as I know they have ended mine.

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