My Son
When a young dad says my son
He means it mostly in the possessive
Self enhancing sense:
Fruit of my loins!
Continuation of my name!
unbroken chain
Bombastic bellow of the man in full
Just before a predictable fall:
Behold my boy!
But the older dad whispers
It with a whiff of apologetic
Ruefulness. It’s not solely your fault,
my son, for all the errors of your life.
Why should shame and regret
Alone be borne by you
Many of them belong to me
And are mine to be borne too.
6/23/22
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