STILL A BOY

STILL A BOY                                                 

Why do I weep?

Each week I sit here, praying for the strength to keep working for long enough to see my children grown. Between work and supper I come to attend evensong.

Let others gawp at the clergy in their gorgeous robes heavy with enough gold to feed my family for life. I come only to hear my son’s pure voice soar to that vaulted ceiling, where even the stone angels lean closer to listen. When he is chosen to sing solo my heart swells with pride.

He was singing in the street for pennies when the priest heard him, and said his voice was a gift from God which was wasted in the gutter. At the time I was happy to let him go – with five mouths to feed life was hard - but now I am torn in two.

They are going to cut him, to stop him becoming a man and keep his voice still that of a boy. My rough-and-tumble lad turned into a nothing, neither man nor woman for the rest of his life! But I cannot take him home – I cannot feed another mouth.

Do you wonder that I weep?