backward glance

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

a look at myself

I looked back and saw myself; ad the frightened boy who used to hide and read, and hide books in places to hide and read
I saw the broken boy survive  with quiet dignity and faithful eyes on the future
I watched the teenage boy rebel and escape into the night, never to return to the evil kingdom
I saw the teen boy without family, or money,  or experience  The boy was alone and unwanted
As the teen boy became a young man, he went wild, and stayed wild, for years and years of good times and loneliness
I saw the young man gradually become a man, and the man did better ,and tried harder, and worked longer hours
I watched the man lose a child, and the way that it destroyed him, from the inside out, in a slow crumbling kind of way
I saw the man that stood up against the bad guys for years, and I liked that man, and the fact that he was trying to help the world in his own quiet manner

The man had other children, and  finally a wife that could understand the broken little boy inside the man,  and love him anyway, and teach him that love is not always poison
The man is older now, both in years and in wisdom, and he looks back on himself from time to time to see what he might remember
and things he wishes he could not remember,
 and things he wished he could remember,
and things he can't remember at all

Age is a burrowing maggot munching on mortality
hurling down the parapets of youthful thinking
 a sobering reminder that we indeed might not have tomorrow, so we damn well better live for the day

Now, I look and see a new man, a writer, and a man that has time to love his family 
A man that goes home every night and doesn’t get shot at or spit on
No more high speed chases or  black top brawls
No sirens or gunshots, only the glowing laptop in front of me, and a new, uncharted world inside my inner mind

I am a man of action, uncomfortable and intrigued at the thought of becoming a normal man
A warrior put back behind the glass, and left to learn what peace means

 After time tramples me under, and reduces me to swirling dust
I hope I fly as free as a mighty hawk, a rebel spirit quickened by heavens eternal touch
Soaring high above the crumbling man, and the broken boy who would hide and read to survive
Free at last to be the man that God would have me be, so that when I look back…
 I can love the man that I see

Submitted: January 15, 2022

© Copyright 2022 r.b. tetro. All rights reserved.

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