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Lucas
Author: Shiloh

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Lucas…
You were the first to teach me
to appreciate the wolf,
to open my mind to the wolf,
to allow myself to learn from the wolf.

The Wolf,
as you showed me,
is, and always has been,
a most noble beast.

Many long years I enjoyed what I could
in learning about the wolf,
and the things about the wolf
became almost sacred to me,
because of your feelings about them.

I enjoyed the stories,
the songs,
the history
and the way the wolf has lived with man,
the way the wolf has shared his land with man.

I was so very proud of you,
Lucas,
for your attitude and your feelings
for the wolf,
as well as for your teaching me
about the wolf.

You and the wolf
are like me and the tiger.
While you may not have lived where the wolf walks,
I have lived where the tiger ruled,
and both animals are valuable
as teachers to man,
but man has to pay attention.

But, as they say,
that was then,
and this is now.
And the now has changed things between us
so that nothing is recognizable any longer.
It was once a thing of beauty,
but now it is tarnished,
worn and shabby and discolored.

You have your reasons,
I am sure,
for your feelings
and the things you have said.
You have hurt your mother’s heart
by your words,
and by your turned back.

Tears are now shared in her thoughts
and they flow too easily from her eyes
for my liking.
I am not upset with you for this —
I am ANGRY with you for this.
My son would not do this,
would not say the things you have said,
would not act the way you have acted.

You are not my son any more, Lucas.
You are a complete stranger to me now.
You may go your own way,
however that may be,
wherever it may lead you….
I no longer care.

You have done this thing.
You have chosen this new trail,
and I hope it works well for you,
but to be honest, Lucas….
I really no longer care how it goes for you.

We loved you,
your mother still loves you,
but you have lost my feelings
by your words and your actions
and your attitude.

You care not a bit for your original family,
so cleave to your wife’s family,
and pray they will be there when you learn,
too late, that you have other needs
than your own worthless vanity,
and it shows, too well,
how your mind has warped itself
to your own version of an orchestrated pity party.

Drink deeply of the draughts you serve up
as they may be your only source of freedom one day,
when you finally understand the folly of your thoughts,
your deeds, and your selfish needs to feel superior.

I no longer, to my way of thinking,
have three sons,
as one has killed himself off from me.
As I said, your mother still loves you,
but I cannot share that treasure word
in the same sentence with your name.

You are young yet, and you are not dead,
but the time may come
when you will rue the moment you turned
and showed your back to those who gave you life,
those who were there for you so many times,
in so many ways,
without hestitation…

Your mother will not like what I am writing,
but I will not lie to you
about my feelings,
as you have built this monument to yourself,
and I will not give any value to your actions
by saying that I will ever forgive you
for the hurt and the tears your mother now carries
because you have become whatver it is that you are now.
I no longer recognize you.

-fini-

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Comments on this poem/writing:

Mental (172.58.159.9) -- Sunday, September 27 2020, 05:45 pm

To shiloh

Wow, just wow!
 
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