Down from the Mountain

You see him, Lord?
You see him?
For years this awful mess.
He scarcely can express himself
Can’t even wash or dress.
His antics get folks going
They fear what might come next.
He roars in hot frustration
Sore lonely and sore vexed.
The doctors see no answer.
Sedation and restraints.
The seizures come so quickly
He thrashes, then he faints.
And I the father helpless
Must stand and watch again
As fear and doubts disable
Your followers, Lord, your men!
Oh won’t you intervene, Sir
And make the darkness flee
And cause the sun to re-appear
For one poor lad, for me?

Doug Blair, Waterloo, Ontario

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