he stands at the top of the stairway
and demands in a testosterone rage
that I tell him where I’ve hidden
his laundered shirts, blue and beige.
he’s been so worrisome lately
to his dad, and me, his mom.
driving recklessly on nearby streets,
slamming home at three a.m.
so i say to him, “Just go away
and take care of yourself.”
and I wonder what I did so wrong;
he was raised with common sense.
so he moved that very weekend
to a friend’s house ‘cross the town
and I never went to see him there
but I wished that he’d come home.
by twenty-two he mellowed,
i saw him driving down our street.
he said he’d bring his friends home
for “a decent meal to eat.”
I met them at the doorway
I didn’t know what to think
But my son, he smiled and hugged me
and he kissed me on my cheek.
“i’m sorry that it’s been so long,
that I did not call for help,
but I had to sort stuff in my mind
and plan my life myself.”
And I knew my son, he’d grown much,
more wise and yet still sweet.
and I welcomed him with open arms.
and pains in my heart, they ceased.


6 comments
Comments feed for this article
March 30, 2007 at 1:23 am
shewolfy728
Yes- I know this story, too, and your poem speaks to my heart.
March 30, 2007 at 2:11 am
lorigloyd
Beautiful!
March 30, 2007 at 7:09 am
lunagirl
For so long I did not want to have children because, I know his rage. At 37, I wonder still. I think growing up is so hard. And I think parents must be mystified as to where their young, sweet children have gone. This poems speak volumes & gives me much to think about.
March 30, 2007 at 11:48 am
cronelogical
My son, my son, I love you always. Fran
March 30, 2007 at 11:09 pm
Heather Blakey
The ecstasy of reunion is very powerful Barbara. This speaks to me as I know it will speak to so many others. My son ‘went’ to express and find himself and I like who he found.
April 1, 2007 at 6:08 pm
jan2
It’s lovely.