Chains

Nae's Nest —  April 17, 2013 — Leave a comment

Quietly he sits. Not one does he bother. Time passes on. Where are his mother and father? Still he sits. In his own little world. He picks a blade of grass.  Between his fingers, he twirls.  Alone, he watches. The circular motion. Round and round it goes  Day after day after day. He shows no emotion. Slowly, his eye relax. He begins to drift. Off to another world. It is the same place. One which is makeshift.

Emptiness has no name. Sadness was never met. He runs and he plays. He is never upset.  A land with a little house.  And a mom and dad.  A place with a bed, blankets. No one is ever mad. Bellies have been fed. Something he has never known. Day after day after day. Like this until he is grown.

He dropped out of school. When his dad died.  He was 16. Now he can drive. His mom sleeps around. She never knows when he is home. He goes wherever he wants.. All he does is roam. He packs up his things. He’s outta here.  He never returns. Year after year after year.

He finds a friend. His name is Smoke. The only friend he’s ever had. His first taste of dope. Now Smoke he must have. No matter the cost.  He’d beg, plead and steal.  His soul was broken and lost.

Quietly he sits.  Not one does he bother. Time passes on. He watches a father. Outside with his son. Tossing a ball. In front of their house. A pretty little house.  With a yard that is small.  It brings back a memory. Or is it a dream?  He has a mom and dad.  He is on a ball team.  He is never hungry or cold or alone.  He is always happy and welcome in his home.

He brushes away a tear.  He knows things can change. He can turn his life around. Completely rearrange. He must take the first step. Leaving his old life behind.  He can destroy his anger.  Be gentle and kind.  He knows it will not be easy.  He knows he will have to fight.  Plagued by too many demons. They own his soul.  They hold it tight.

His eyes went back to the father. Now sitting with his boy. Hearing laughter and giggles. The true meaning of joy. Something inside him begins to bubble.  He needs someone to help.  He needs someone to talk to.  Before he withdraws inside of himself.

He sees the boy and dad leave. He decides to leave too… Looking for someone, someplace to help him.  Anyone, anyplace would do. He has no place to go. . He has no blanket for warmth. No one who cares. His heart broken and torn. His belly is empty.  He is used to it. The soup kitchen has no food. He will have to work for it.

Selling his body on the streets.  For a little food. Something he hates. But what could he do?  He continues to drive. He finds a church. He knows he will find help.   Once he is inside. He reaches for the door.  But he begins to cry. The door is locked. And so now is his heart. He is hurt. He is angry. He runs back to his car.

He goes to the boy’s house. Seeking refuge there.  He will not sell his body. He deserves a good life. It is time for his share.

.Sadly, he follows the road, that he only knows. The steps of his father and the father before him. The chains of bondage, to strong for him to ignore them.  Destined to live in the same house, the same days, the same years in the same ways The hands of time never-changing. Day after day after day. Year and year after year. The ways it has always been. The way he always feared.

The child dreamed of a future within a blade of grass. Twirling it around and around. Until he was relaxed.The young man can make the change. He can take control. Get rid of those demons. He can free his soul.

He can find peace. Find love and a home. With the family in the little house. He will no longer be alone. If he can open the door to a heart that is cold.  If he can find trust.  He can break the chains the demons hold

He has the power. He alone. To change the sands of time. To make what “IS”  what “WAS”. His future a new design.

He has the power. He alone. To turn the hourglass. Shifting the years within year after year. Day after day after day.

Freeing his soul at last

Renee Robinson

Nae's Nest

Posts

I find myself "Dancing With Cancer", problem is...I can't dance. I stumble, bumble, and get pulled along. To keep my sanity, (humor me), I write short stories, a journal, musings and poetry....just about anything goes.

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