Oh My Son Poem by Curtis Goodnight

Oh my son
please please see- it doesn't at all matter where or in what or with whom- we ultimately choose.
We can choose that light over the dark, joy over the sorrow, creation over angst …
that is what i now know and is why i sit overlooking a busy highway and a busy airport and an agonized snow rots away in the week before christmas
and still i feel the wave of love wash over me and it doesn't need tender snow or rural roads or echoed silence.
I
am warm in my room.
there are beans in the pot.
That old red truck has a tank of gas.
my two good feets carry me sturdy like into a life uniquely my own.