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.
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