my child

Engimatic, unprecipitated, enduring
Worthlessness has taken my child hostage.

My child has been taken to a place I cannot go,
to a location I cannot find.

he asks to die.
he names his time of death.
he begs to be relieved of his life,
“his miserable life.”

I am obliged to help,
as I have so many other times –
his injuries,
his insufficiencies,
his brokenness.

I speak Reason,
Understanding,
Love.


then the fight ensues:
physical,
emotional,
painful.
his anguish cries out against his value.


the emotional quicksand pulls him
down into the mire,
anesthetizing every ray of light,
clinging to his spirit,
remodeling his intellect.

grief and worthlessness overwhelm.


No matter how I pull
against the gathering weight,
I cannot stop it.

May I not intervene?
Shall I not wish a different fate?
Can I not push him back into the womb
to be born again?

Then I would know more,
understand more,
“pick my battles” better.

he must learn to battle these demons,
I cannot.
I must not.
For he is the strength against himself.