Second Son Poem by Robert Rorabeck

God touched the
Charismatic youth on
His subtle shoulder and spoke,
“I like this one.”

And his light came down
And inhabited flesh

So very swiftly the young
Man ripened into a
Gifted artist
Whom the world adored
And remembered his name
In the vociferous gardens of
His art,
For centuries onward to
This day,
God's fond love still lingers for him

Passed from female vessel
Through womanly chalice….

That is the one I both
Admire and despise
As my hours anguish onward,
The futile trajectory of my
Words
Spend toiling the dry and
Brittle pages of the earth,

My back bent and aching from
False labors,
Beseeching God wordlessly
To reach down and bless me
As a father remembering he had
A second, less gifted son.