A Lament for My Son

Oh for the hours of time spent with you,

When our laughter rang out, and the moments were gay.
The memories of music and singing sweet tunes
Of popular ditties, top songs of the day.
I remember a favorite you sang on the stairs
Of Saturdays spent in the park with your friends.
I thrill to the thoughts of our days at a lake.
Reminiscing, my memory goes on without end.
The shine of the colors of rust in your hair
Remind me of textures and touches I knew
When I could run fingers of love through your locks,
And the beauty of it all comes back anew.
There were four of us then. My children and me.
And we knew we were one with each other at a time 
When the world all around us was foreign and far.
We each needed love and we loved so sublime.
Your brother was friend, your companion throughout.
And your bond was invaded by anger and pain.
Your sister was friend, a companion it’s true,
And she loved you with patience, and that patience remained.
Did we never reveal the deep love in our beings
That caused us to love you through years of rebuffs?
Did you never see how much we longed for your peace?
Was the unending devotion to you not enough?
You demanded your space. You received what you asked.
You wanted independence, yet your heart was deceived.
You thought you needed no one, yet you failed to see
That we needed you, and our hearts were so grieved.
But now we discover your heartache was founded
On paternal love that you never could have.
Your heart longs for family that always eluded you.
The four of us wasn’t enough of a salve.
How I long for your happiness! How I long for your peace!
How I pray for your life to go by better spent
Living fully, constructively, and for only the Creator,
Realizing His love, living calm and content!
Oh, the memories flood through my mind, and I weep
For the wonderful days you grew up in my arms.
As a baby I rocked you and sang lullabies soft and sweet.
I was captured by a red-headed boy and his charms.
In the autumn of my years I regret love unspoken,
But trying to rescue a man, I regret even more.
A man that didn’t learn to stand firmly alone,
Unable to rise above life’s malignant sore.
So I pray to a Father that loves you beyond
Any love that a mother could ever achieve.
And I trust Him to draw you fast into His arms.
This I must depend on, on this I must believe.