Mourning Cain

Oh my son, my happiness,

What have you done?

You the eldest,

The first to be born of all the Earth,

The first of human getting,

Never innocent,

The first coming with pain, and blood, and tears,

That should have warned us.

We should have guessed,

But we could not see,

We loved you so,

We watched all your firsts,

The first of all firsts,

First teeth,

First words,

First steps,

Watched as you grew to love growing things,

Watched your gentle planting of tender seedlings,

Watched your patient waiting for ripening crops.

Your little garden was a second Eden,

And your offering generous.

When it was rejected did you blame your brother?

Were you ashamed?

What dark place opened then,

To make you first again?

Oh my son, my heart,

Where have you gone?

What rage drove you so far from us?

Your exile began long before you left.

Forgive us.

Maybe you thought we loved him more than you.

That road was still unexplored.

No younger brother had yet usurped a parent's love.

Did your journey start there?

Do you imagine we wish you gone?

Even now?

That we prefer a home without sons,

Mourning not only the dead, but the living as well?

What strange countries,

Landscapes beyond our imagination,

Do you call home,

Where such parents live?

It must be a barren place,

And lonely.

Oh my son, my hope,

Will you come home?

Can you remember your way back,

Or has the road been too long?

Have there been so many twists and turns

That you have become lost?

Are there too many burnt bridges behind you?

Or is it safer out there,

Somewhere else?

Do you even want to come home,

Or have you turned your back on us forever?

You took from us the son we thought we had,

Do not deny us the son we have.

Our "will be's" wait for your return,

For you are the future.

Forgo your wanderings,

And find a way.

No path is wrong that leads you home,

So turn your face towards us,

And know forgiveness.