If I should have a son,
I’d tell him to hold on tight
To everything and anything that matters.
That being stubborn is a gift
And determination is all I know.
I’d tell him to move on
And if he can’t move on,
Well, then he should just move even faster.
That caution should always be his first move
Even if it was never mine.
I’d tell him about the two kinds of people
Those who regret what they do
And those who regret what they don’t.
About how the world is only expansive if he thinks it is.
And how he can cradle it in his palm
If only he tries hard enough.
I’d tell him to love what he can
And forget what he can’t.
I’d wouldn’t tell him about being immobilized and powerless.
I’d wouldn’t warn him about being limited.
I wouldn’t tell him what I wanted to accomplish
Only what I did
And what he could.
I wouldn’t tell him about fear of commitment
Because he shouldn’t have to know the burden.

I wouldn’t tell him why I don’t want a son
Because that son I won’t have
And that limit I don’t want
Needs to stay behind me.