He stands in the field like a solitary oak;
his identity revealed for all to see
the confusion and fear as if he just woke.
He reaches for the sky invisible to me.
He looks in my eyes and sees all of his fears;
a life in the shadows so hard to define.
He turns away sadly to hide the tears;
compassion and understanding for one of mine.
Their pre-conceived notions mingle with fear;
challenged by parents who don't understand.
His solitary road so hard to make clear;
Their wall of silence so hard to withstand.
Like the tall tree in the field,
all alone in the mist,
he stands out in the crowd,
waiting for someone to listen.
Identity lost in the soft morning haze;
is this my true self or just another phase?
Climb the fence and reach out to me;
compassion the new fashion for all to see!
To all the fathers of sons:
Remember always that he is not you, and to try and make him so will only serve to lessen those very bonds you wish to instill. Let him be who he is - and he will never disappoint you.