Epilepsy

Son, I loved you before I knew,

You were to be born to me,

Now, I don't look at you to love you,

I look at you to see,

If the dreaded thing is coming through,

To take you away from me,

With your familiar eyes of lineage blue,

You show me where you will be,

Near to me or far off as a bird that flew,

Into a world you cannot see,

Terror attempts to take over my view,

As I pray, and beg, and plea,

Like a phoenix from ash rising anew,

You will come back to be,

A bird alit, my loving child who,

Is whole in mind and free.