brown lace

“I would love to have met the father of my son”
-This is Us

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My Son

When I look at you
I see oceans of
memories, blue from
the sadness of my mistakes
and deep as the pain
of my flaws

I look at you
and I see the steam
of my coffee
awakening my soul
for the day
the reason for my
need to be awake

I look at you
and I see a box
like the one
I placed you in
limiting and suffocating you
in thick brown layers of
paper

I look at you
and see your mother
holding you to her chest
soothing you
with the sound of her
breathing
until your tears dried off
on her blouse

I look at you
and I see a grand piano
with every chord and key change
you become sound
and from sound
you become deep emotions
bringing tears of joy and sadness

I look at you
and see brown lace
blowing in the wind
flapping in the breeze
intertwining threads of
love and hate
unsettled by the pegs
that bind you to
this place

I look at you
and I see my features
etched in your skin
but
when I look at you
And look into the
depth of you
I see the night sky
dark and familiar
yet full of the unknown
bursting with mystery
and wonder

But, like this
night sky
you are too far away
my son
like the galaxy that
you have become
leaving me nothing but
a telescope
that I use to find you
each night
I become an astronomer
night after night
gazing and longing
for you
from far away

all I ask is
for you to
look down at me
and see my repentance
listen to the sound
of my sorrow
see for yourself
my acts of penance
and hear the
final lines of
my last song

“I beg of you, my Son
look at me
What is it you see?
Do I remind you of anything?
if so
What can it be?”

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growth

“a malignant and invasive g…”



↑↑
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I am a galaxy of cells
destined to be made
and unmade

I felt you inside
destined to grow
and unmake me

I grew old with you
as you grew and
became me

I felt the pain you made
as my own blood
left me
with the vexing calls
of your invasion

I let them take you
but their elixirs
only soothed the song
of your voice
making your ballad
sweet to the soul

now the moon
in all her power
can no longer
keep you back

I feel you
making your way to my heart
becoming new
becoming growth
growing inside me

until I am consumed

and trapped
in my traffic
lost in my own
exhaust fumes

take all of me
now, I plead
I love living too much
to let you become
me
and live my life

I would rather
be ashes and
food to the wind

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↓↓

still

thinking of the great Robert Louis Stevenson and his piece Requiem.





Still oceans sing tides
Still as the sailors they bring
Still worn by the waves
Still waters they lay in
Still loved by their lovers
Still held by their kin
Still crying on the pier
Still as a sailor
Still sung by the tides