What Child is This?

What Child is This?
“Proud parent … Honor Roll student …”
Shouts the bumper of mom’s SUV.
Slender, male, blond, thirteen – the youth
Referenced to a T.

But mom and dad – they both are gone
Before their time to lie
‘Neath cold and loamy soil this dawn,
‘Twas not their time to die.

In prime of life with years to go
Both victims to this son,
Their own lifeblood, ‘twas not a foe
What child is this who’s done;

Who’s done this deed this day we note
Just one along the way
To morrow’s dawn, we’ve learned by rote,
That brings a better day.

What child is this who’s done this thing
Unthought of til this day?
‘Tis you and I, the ages sing,
Who reared this child to slay.

But ten and three years past this May
Was born of hopes and dreams,
And grew in stature day by day,
How short a time it seems!

Was taught by mom, by dad, by those
Who teach the young in schools.
Was taught by all of us who pose,
By those who know the rules.

And learned to pan what we expect
Of child – “do what I say,”
Yet do ourselves what we accept
To further our own way.

To further our own way
With little thought for son.
To further our own way,
He learned the way it’s done.

And turned to street, to drugs, to peers
In search of something more,
And found at last someone who hears,
And found an open door.

An open door not seen by us
Who watched him every day,
A door that led to emptiness
And death along the way.

Along the way to carelessness
Of life and all its joys.
Along the way to recklessness
And now we sadly poise.

To further our own way, Lord,
To further our own way.

What child is this we see this day,
Who claims him as their son?
We knew him only yesterday,
What child this deed has done?

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