From the Father's Perspective

(a reflection on Luke 15)

When he came home from school that day
I could tell something was different
Some chasm, some threshold
Had been crossed in his restless mind

I had wanted him to share my sensibilities
my faith, my love for God and all things family
I suppose it's fair for you to say
That I wanted him to be just like me

I guess you always think more highly
of yourself that you should
I saw myself as kind, compassionate, caring
and brimming in emotional intelligence

I must not be that good after all
For my son is gone
The bedroom, empty, and
the lights turned down

When I last saw him, he was brief
'i want my inheritance, i want to be free'
Not a deposit, not a loan
He wanted it all, and then he left home

What had I wanted?  Did I know?
I wanted him to be my friend
To live near home, to see him grow old
To find a good wife and have my grandchildren

The mystic in me hoped he would find
Joy in the knowledge of love
and the wisdom of how to be kind
To the least of these and the spirit dove

A drawdown on my memory bank
Yields no answers, no dividends
How did this happen, and when will it end
Did I yell too much or hold love all in?

Perhaps I pushed him too hard
Or worked too much and failed to listen
I wonder if I could have engaged with him
More, MOre, MORe, MORE -- silence then

From the father's perspective, I dd the best I could
At least, I thought I did
If I ever see him again, I have no doubt
I will run to him