New Occidental Poetry

sleep my son

the day I found out you were on your way
was not remarkable to me, or anyone, really
your mother cried for fear of the unknown
and life carried on because we kept you a secret

you started to grow at a terrifying rate
like a tiny bug swelling up to the size of a tree
crashing through the downtown of your mother’s metropolis
scaling the pinnacle of her highest building and beating your chest

and I continued on my way, content to read and write
like nothing was going to change
but don’t mistake my placid demeanor
for apathy or ambivalence

while you consume your mother’s body
while you horde her precious resources for your impending excursion
you have slowly taken over my mind
you have colonized my hopes and fears, taking them from me like no needle ever could

for your mother this is hard; a tiny alien stealing bites from her meals
but the return is a boy who will learn to respect her over all else
for me this is easy; another opportunity to do less than my best
but the consequences are so obvious and awful

you are coming to a world made broken by others
others, like me, who thought they could control the wind
you are inheriting a legacy of lies and ashes
ashes of a society once great, now grey

sleep, my son
sleep well and long
sleep safe and sound
sleep without dreams

for one day soon, you will awaken
awaken to a world with no hope
and the best gift I can give you is pain
and the worst gift I will give you is love

- Frederick Algernon