Why Are They Here

© 2015 by P Michael Biggs

"Why are they here," he mused.

He’s just a baby.

Well, more than a baby,

But he hasn’t done anything yet,

Except cry and eat, eat and cry.

"Why are they here?"

What magnetism draws them?

What is His destiny?

What is His brand?

I was given orders.

Take the mother as my own.

Raise this child as my own.

I wanted to run, but I stayed.

So here we sit.

Here they come

They look, and stare

And wonder, and whisper

It is not a moment for talk

It is a moment for thinking

And listening and dreaming.

I am the father

Why am I here?

I am chosen to guide,

To teach, to love and to obey.

I wonder where this obedience will lead.