MY SON

Man-child, he stayed awake
As we drove home from Indiana;
Keeping up my spirits
Making me stronger
With his love.
He was five years old.

My son.

Child-man, he wrestled
With the demons of society;
As he struggled through
Addiction and terror,
Finding his way
Back home.
He was fifteen years old.

My son.

Man-child, he married
Finally a woman who
Would help him
Through his pain,
Give him love
And understanding.
He was thirty years old.

My son.

Child-man, he lay
In a hospital bed;
Looking like death
Had a firm grip,
Yet he struggled to live,
And made it through
Quadruple heart surgery.
He was thirty-eight years old.

My son.

Man-child, once more
He is going back to the hospital;
For a heart catherization;
Hoping for release
From more pain,
Now that he has
Something to live for.
He is trying so hard
To make sure I am okay.
He is forty years old.

My son.

My son needs your prayers
And mine -

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