The Old Basket

Son, I told him, Bring me water from the river In my old basket. Wide eyed he stared again Bringing the contempt for school And church to make complaint Against my revenue of pain. All I want to do, he said Is to be twenty one I want to fulfill my own agenda Discard your tired days for fun. Son, I repeated Bring me water from the river In my old basket. Humoring me in anger he went And with draconian intent Forced him back again and again. When he made his seventh run In the futile up and down I asked him what's the matter? It is so stupid, he said. A basket cannot carry water You are just an old dictator. Son, I told him You are too focused on the water Bring the basket to the center. What do you see? I asked him. It is wet and cleaner, he replied. You are a basket, my son. You are focused on the people When church is making you cleaner And school little wetter. Son, next time I send you Bring me from the river In my old basket forever.