Heron-marked Sword
My father gave me a heron-marked sword;
it never leaves my side.
With it close,
I pretend he is too.
The sword represents my tie to him,
his love for me,
my identity as his son.
Others see my heron-marked sword
and don’t know what to think.
I’m too young, they say;
it’s impossible, they say.
I do not match their expectations
for a carrier of such a blade,
so they accuse me of theft.
To avoid their stares and judgment,
I cover the heron marks.
I don’t need their expectations—
I only want to live up to my father’s,
to be a son he can be proud of,
to be a son who represents him well,
to be a son who comes home to see him again.
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