My Son

My Son

A Poem by Precious Prodigal


My Son
by Rita Aiken Moritz
 For years I prayed to know God's perfect plan
 and asked His matchless grace to raise a man.
 I watched you grow and watching, I grew too
 and learned from the complexity of you.
 So I with love invested through the years
 in your young life and that sometimes with tears.
 So many times I feared the world we knew
 Would harm, dismay, or bring some pain to you.
 I couldn't even guess the pain you knew;
 That choices you would make would hurt me too
 As watching this disease take full control,
 I felt it pierce me to my very soul.
 I couldn't reach you, couldn't help or pray
 As day by day you threw your life away.
 I know the choice is yours, my son, to make;
 But have you realized yet what's at stake?
 Your very life may be the price you pay
 For all the things, by choice, you threw away.
 I want to fight, to rage, to lose control...
 To somehow beat this sickness of the soul.
 Oh agony of soul--my son, my son!
 Who knows the wondrous things you might have done?
 But all my hopes and dreams were not for you.
 They're worthless things if you don't want them too.
 And I can't shield you, though I've often tried;
 And that would sometimes hurt your manly pride.
 But Oh! I loved you, son, and I still do.
 And still I pray and hope the best for you.
 I cannot help you, son, to leave this Hell.
 I want to, and I think you know it well.
 But only you can find the way back home.
 I'm powerless. You must go on alone.
 I gave you life, and I was glad to give.
 But now this life is yours alone to live.
 What choices will you make? What will you do
 With this great gift belonging just to you?
 Who knows the wondrous things you might do still?
 My heart cries out, "Son, if you only will!"
 The path that you will choose demands some thought.
 What will you choose...Recovery? Or not?

© 2013 Precious Prodigal

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