Most men come here broken,
but you appear undefiled
despite the years you must have spent
out roaming in the wild;
and when I asked you for your name,
you offered up naught but a smile.
No, you are not mild nor meek at heart,
for you are your father’s child.
Most men arrive hungry,
but you mention only thirst,
as if you’d come across the desert,
scorched by sun and cursed;
and when I looked into your eyes,
I saw no dam had burst.
Though your mother tried to shape you,
you were your father’s first.
You wonder of the lesson?
well, it’s already begun;
and we will speak again, in time,
when this lesson is done.
No, there is naught to give you
save the space and leave to run –
for you are complete within yourself,
you are your father’s son.
07 JUL 2003