to my son James
When you were born, I had so many dreams,
so many dreams for you, as my belief
in you were always abundant, and it seems
that even when my dreams were struck with grief,
when they knew a scorching heat of hell,
these dreams are still in me and, I must tell,
alive and kicking.
This might sound odd
when you have drifted so much astray,
I still believe, you will become one day
a brilliantly gifted man of God.
Where is this love and kindness that was
when you were caring for others in your school?
What influence so heartless, so cruel
is keeping your compassion in its claws?
Love used to be integral to your soul,
when you were clinging for a fair dose
of Mummy’s hugs, but then a false male role
was brutally imposed on your mind.
The world, alas, was never very kind
neither to you nor me: we both were trapped
in its hostility, when evil forces sapped
our dreams by using a deception
and twisted your ideals, your perception
of what’s expected of a modern man.
The love of Christ meets nowadays scorn,
but for such love you were, my darling, born.
I wonder, if this was a part of plan
from God himself, because it is His trait
to overthrow Satan’s crafty ways
by miracles, transforming people’s hate
into forgiveness, love, and into praise
to God Himself - for his eternal glory.
It is my hope.
Although I’m sorry
for what had happened, I’m still amazed
at God’s abiding pledge.
Remember Joseph’s story?
He was betrayed by his own brothers,
a slave, away from home in another
land.
This led him to his good.
This image is my hope’s daily food.
One day the time will heal all our scars,
all our pain, everything that mars
our misted vision.
I replenish mine
again with dreams for you when I’m online
with God – He paid for them with blood
for our souls to prosper. No mud
can block their growth, their bloom, and their scent.
I don’t need authorities’ consent
to pass my dreams like flowers to you,
for love has powers to banish any fears.
The love of Christ, if only you knew,
has no borders.
There’re no frontiers
that represented obstacles for Him.
And, even if the chances look too slim
for you to hear, when you block your ears,
my dreams are in your mind, they bud;
they’re passed to you with imprints of my blood
to your genetic code, they’re stored
in you, in your internal depth,
and will remain there till our death,
or when you chose for them to be restored,
allowing my dreams for you to beam.
That’s what is left for me – my only dream.
13 September 2011