Poetry Making Men

[Rich.]

When my boys look up with questioning eyes,

Having seen bombs fall and men talking shit​

On TV who I would so gladly pit​

Against my fast fists for all their damn lies,
When these failing states bode darkening skies,

And I gather my boys, searching words fit​

For them to face these times and not be hit​

By the toxic stench of the strong man's rise,
Painfully, I remind myself that they

Take me as only part of their thinking,​

That I'm just a bedrock of values they know.

They'll grow their own forests in their own way,​

And so I'm left thinking that parenting

Is just one long process of letting go.​

 

[Sedayne]

They'll grow their own forests in their own way,

Just beautiful.

 

[Rich.]

Thank you