The cell burns from within the pocket
As the needle caresses the crimson “E.”
Justice questioned of the Almighty God
Car slows down, it’s time again
To press the speed dial “8;”
Re-bridging two worlds, renewing the scab-
Mom thinks all too late.
The red of the nylon vivid in hue
Tied to the basement rafter;
The blue of the note written on the washer
Heralding the hereafter;
The white of the face of dear old dad
Before kicking the chair from under him;
The brown of the sheriff ,came just in time,
To ring the bell and blunder him.
The images haunt the every thought
As gas necessitates the call
$2, $2.07, $2.75, $3
Causes this one to fall
Back to memories of screams and fights,
Of baseball bats and tears.
OPEC forces one still a child
To confront his darkest years
First once a month, then once a week,
Now once every couple of days.
Mileage doesn’t mean so much
anymore. . . .
Crude incites cruel making distance hit home
The sins of the father.
All he’s good at – selfish ways.
Never really seeking the God of this earth
The only thing to save him.
Laying down a family at the altar of his god:
His excuse, his past, his illness, his, his his
When she’s deserved it all.
One desires not to talk about it, one never does. Living away, detached from the reality, still hurting.
Pain. Pain. Pain. Tears of pain, fulfilling a role one never meant to fulfill:
surrogate husband to a broken mother.
Making a man of the child but still hurting her in the process.
Just . . . don’t . . . know . . .
Satisfaction and faith in Almighty God
Restores order to it all.
My only real Daddy in this entire world,
No matter “what” I have to call.
One strange paradox defining my world:
Joy, satisfaction, abundant life!!
Amidst all the pain of family hurt –
The constant signs of strife.
Provision not the source of belief,
Rather a recent application.
The value I hold, for my Lord, my God;
Mirrors the gas price of this nation. . .