Task

For purposes of classification
we are known to ask
what makes a dog a dog and a cat a cat.
It’s a different kind of question
when, alone, I ask:
Who am I? What sort of as man?

It’s as if in growing
from childhood to being adult
we lose our way,
get delayed, set off in different directions
never to get home.

Getting home is the task of becoming:
To learn again
what we knew at the very start
when we shook the bars
of our crib, tried to climb over:

First steps on this unsure journey.

And all this talking!
Telling what we must do and must be.
It’s an endless task,
this person we fight our fight for:
the son we are.