was it the sprawl,
that could not be all,
was it the speed,
he could keep up, if he had the need,
he liked the vibe,
he hoped he had found his tribe,
but it broke him,
he built trust in bridges,
they could not span their own gap,
they looked solid and made well,
they were already jaded with rust
all in, was a bust,
they left him short,
it was a gamble from the start.
they did not know their lies,
their egos, half-truth logos,
would make a cosmetic surgical
nightmare of his heart-felt dream.
No cards, no games,
no table, no chairs on which to play,
tonight he moves out,
from there
alone
he may find a couch,
for a few nights,
he may have a couple of places to stay,
but what if that falls through
he has made choices
maybe even heard voices,
woke up not knowing how much time a
has passed,
but that all changed, it didn't last,
he knew that no longer fit,
the present or the future,
it was the past,
the cracks in the night and
he has bags under his eyes as big as
the bags he carries over his shoulder
he will not tell them the truth,
for if he has a place to stay,
hope it is better than the hell he has been through,
and if he is able to see the stars,
may he know that You are not very far,
and we are waiting by our phones for his thumbs,
to remember family
even when he is broken,
he is no less than the sum of his broken parts,
and a whole lot more,
to some of us,
loading his excess baggage into
the car,
he was going to join me to unload and
go back to clean,
I
drove
home alone,
he stayed there,
in that basement that
never saw daylight
to clean,
no roommates to help,
I packed his bags into
the overstuffed garage,
wasn't much but it isn't large,
we hugged before I got behind the wheel
to home alone, drive,
their were tears in his eyes,
that matched the ones on my shirt shoulder,
"it is so hard to leave this place,"
I could see it on his face,
not only was he broken,
he is sad,
he knows the door is always open here,
he has work,
with no place to stay,
he likes the big city,
and won't move a
large river away,
too far from work,
too far from the life,
he wants to capture,
catch it with that thread of hope
to sew the broken parts
of his heart,
of his head,
of his mind,
of his spine,
of his arm and legs,
of his hands and feet,
from his toes to his hair,
he has piercings and has beenbeenybeen pierced
by this
he is so close to where he wants to be,
to live, to have a life,
not a half-life,
he needs a roof over his head,
a roomate or two to trust,
hope that the job pans out,
he needs find nuggets,
not sand to pound,
even brokeness needs time to heal,
more could be said,
about God and man,
the church and all that,
but none of that and
all of that contributed
to break number 3.
Son number two but child number 3,
as parent when they walk
out that door, however they go,
not done raising them,
even if you have let go,
love them, let it show,
they need to know
otherwise they may walk in the
dark and it will swallow
all the broken parts whole.
It broke number 3,
it took about a year,
sleep and slumber befall me,
Watch over him, wrest my fears,
he did not think it would end,
this way without having another
place to stay.
On loosing a child, a young man, in a very big unkind city, where he won't say where he will stay, and the anguish, that floats
Have you heard this one, four room mates move in together, rents expensive and it takes four to make the rent easier to swallow (broken glass with the edges sanded) anyway, two decide to move on, relationships and valid life stuff, but they don't play well with others, some says they will move in and then change their mind, then there were three, rent gets very expensive, then one of the other ones has a difficult family situation and decides it is best to move home, and that leaves two who have to give notice one can find a place and one cannot, well at least not that he can afford, so my thoughts are with him and this is no joke, if there is a punch line, I missed it.