TO MY BROTHER WITH LOVE

No one to take your little hand
When you were just a boy,
No one to hold you close and say,
“My son, my pride and joy”

No one to guide your little steps,
Each time they went astray,
No dad or mum to listen when
You knelt each night to pray.

No one to care enough to share,
Your triumphs, joys and fears,
No one to kiss you when you fell,
And dry away your tears.

Although you’ve grown into a man,
The little boy inside,
Is looking for the love that
As a child you never had.

So many roads now beckon,
With promises of peace,
Each one deceitfully beguiles,
Seduces and misleads.

You walk along blind alleys,
You bump into dead ends,
I sadly watch as you insist
That you are quite content.

Not blind yet have no vision,
Not deaf yet hear no song,
Not orphaned yet rejecting
The Church where you belong.

No matter where you wander,
Or how far you choose to roam,
With all my love I pray someday,
That Christ will lead you home.

MYRA D’SOUZA
29.8.99