Lives lost as lives often are,
He stared across the dimly lit
Cityscape as he reflected on
The poverty of the soul
That had recently stopped
His otherwise flawless sprint
Through the tall grass
And wild flowers.
In another life, another time,
Or so it felt now, so distant,
Happier days with a wife
Who shared everything with
Him until something inside
Changed them both,
From which they never returned.
A son and wife so close,
Yet never to be touched.
Nothing seemed to matter much
After leaving that life,
But he found a new one and
With it, new complications
And strife and love and hope,
Everything rebuilt on the ashes
Of what seemed to be impossible
To rebuild.
Tragedy: A house of ashes
Cannot stand for long in the rain,
And soon the man saw grave
Injustice, and rose against
Such outrageous fortunes,
Only to be crushed by betrayal
Of the one he sought to save.
Years were lost in a cell.
“No more shall I help those
Who look like they need help,”
He spat scornfully one day,
“No more shall I trust others,
No more shall I fall into such
Follies that crush good men
Such as myself! No more!”
He shuffled through the snow.
So much was right with everything now
But so much was not enough;
It was never enough!
Could it ever be enough?
Black and white photos from
Bygone eras and pretentious edits
Electronically imposed on modern shots
Could never be enough.
“Shapeless is the void that haunts men’s hearts,
Men with dreams of lives with
Families they love and protect,
Dreams of fairness in their lives…”
He paused.
“Dreams of receiving another chance
When circumstances conspire against.”
He swirled his drink.
His life was quiet, much like
This still night he looked out upon,
The loud laughter of children
Long since dissipated into darkness,
Chatter from elderly couples and mothers
Quieted by glittering stars,
Somewhere far away but very close
Were they seeing these same lights?
Composed 08/03/2013
Author’s Note: I recently lost a friend. A good friend. I have written this post in advance of when it will actually be posted, because I feel too much time will have passed if I wait until later to write it. I can’t think of what to say, how to express it: There are too many complications, complexities, nuances, shades of meaning and experiences not wholly able to be processes simultaneously. Perhaps not even individually. There may not be another time I am able to write this, yet I’m dropping all of my words like a small child trying to carry all of his toys at once. You were a good man. Nobody here will ever speak of you and not mention that. You were a good man.
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Two Second Street 
This is extraordinary work – I really don’t have words to express how it felt to read it, beyond saying that I sat back in awe at its completion. Bravo! 🙂 🙂
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Thank you very much!
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I’ve written a lot in the past week, but none of it does justice to what I wish to say. It feels disrespectful to carry on blogging without acknowledging the event, but it seems like it would be even more so to publish that grief without giving it due care. If I’m to post something, I want it to be worthy of the man we’ve lost.
You’ve done that. This is beautiful.
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Thank you very much! It was difficult composing this, but I’m glad you liked it. Thanks again!
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