FOR MY SON, CATHAL BUÍ (Sonnet I)

A first sonnet for my third son estranged, Cathal Buí Pádraic

For you who sit so special in my heart,
But dare you bid me will or time of day?
Let's put an end to this, let's not delay
The healing, although we are poles apart.
This banner you embrace is tired and stained,
Full-recognized from battles past endured.
'Tis not for me the battle's cold allure,
So what is lost, what needs to be regained?
My every memory of you recalled
Was love, there was no personal crusade.
I lay my armor down, my helm, my blade,
Like Pyrrhus counting corpses in his fall.
Still, one shining thought forever remains true:
You're always part of me and I, of you.

Raymond Pratt 01/2011