My Son the Outsider

There is no glory being buried inside a culture not of your own making
When the past eclipses the present there is only one recipe for the baking
There are no chairs at the table if you do not build upon their legacy
Instead they will expect you to facilitate their segregated destiny
No man is more dangerous to your soul than one who is sure his is saved
And in his righteousness, humility instead of pride is what he will waive
He takes his place before God and before man during his time
For his rights swell from the assumed power at the head of the line
The advantage of birth is never recognized by a baby swaddled in royal cloth
While the boy who only has love from his parent sees his blanket eaten by a moth
There can be no loyalty or honor in another’s prideful accomplishments
It’s too much to ask of a young boy who has substituted cynicism for innocence
Waiting to find yourself can kill even the strongest of developing minds
Who holds his hand in his journey, away from the crowd and his own kind?
I tried to tell him that a Father’s love can be his strength for my belief is all his
For I know what can be done with your own thoughts and rejection of the mob’s kiss
There is no pain greater than watching your child as the one who is neither lost or found
For you sense a powerful presence enveloped in the sadness that has run him aground
He is already an observer of the cultural ruins and has aged fifty years in two
I admire what he knows but tremble for he has become me and not the boy I knew
It is too early to abandon homecoming and school pride but he wants none of this
Glory days have not arrived and he is unable to see that youth is not all there is
Together we will walk away from the scraps that popular society have left on the floor
And we will laugh as behind us our independence will forever close the door