Hercules, my beautiful baby boy
With your corn silk hair of Samson
And small spaces between your teeth
The laughter that burbles forth
Clear and pure as water,
How much you have grown from
child to Man.

A fragile shoot into an oak tree.

You avoided Death’s jaws
By closing your tiny fists around them
Insanity bestowed as a gift for fighting
The animal within purging the blood.

And yet my poor child sent so many trials.
Your hair shorn
Looking like a prickly porcupine
But it was never about those locks
It was your heart.

A heavy burden to bear
And some are not equal to the task
They trip and drop them
Watch as the glass shatters

But you are half human
Yours does not break
The muscle rips and tears
Agonizing though it may be
It mends stronger each time.

Your cup overflows
And it feels like drowning
The highs that are tsunami waves
Lows become earthquakes
Shaking everything apart.

And this mother may only be mortal
But she reminds you that
Your hair will grow back
And so will your heart
Lovely as before.