The Four Sons

by Scott Meltsner

The first son, the wise son, is the forgotten one.
He only meant to bring pleasure to the fathers
he only tried to pray and make clear the road to God
he wanted you to tell him
and then he'd get it all down right
the miracle was a story to tell his friends
not that he could embellish, just remember
he was the one who was there but not there
he was forgotten even then
But he is the heart of the family
you know you cannot deny it
he is the wine you drink
he is the matzoh in the eggs.

The second son, the wicked son,
wasn't really so obstinatious
He was more a fool than the simple one
He was just scared, is all
the world angled at him like arrows
he was lost in his own mind
as we all are.
He wanted to know the reason, like you do,
but he couldn't confess that.
He gave you the door to walk through
Like Moses with his long hair and staff
without his shadowed steps
you wouldn't have made it across that sea of loneliness
to the land of milk and honey peanut butter toast.
Admit it. Just admit it.
With that he tosses back his head, harmless as always.

The third son, the simple son, is the most complicated.
He's close to the earth but floats in the air
remembering as he escapes the past that harrowed us
he leaps onto the stage with uncanny grace
and you tell him the tale he allready knows,
But each time he asks new questions
he pierces the mystery but remains clean
free from the spray of its dissolving, he eludes it
he is so much a piece of love
that he runs from you
posing those silly questions as he goes.

And the foolish fourth one, the one who cannot even ask, is truly no fool
The laugh he foists on you is only a sprinkling
it goes far deeper than that
beyond any disease
beyond the story's seeming chronology
frogs came when locusts sang
and their skins peeled like seed pods
and stuck to your feet. He never minded that.
He was happy showing feats of physicality
that would drive the hillsides mellow.
Like sunlight on water, broken into pieces
he held the fire in his heart
and it flowed through his eyes into the world.
It was that question which captured you-- his question
that was no question
it was a call
you know what he was saying--
come with me to the promised land, you fools
you're slaves to your own selves
you don't realize
that you're allready free.

Copyright 2000 Scott Meltsner

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