Sadness, loneliness, internal hopelessness,
why did she stop listening and caring what was happening in me.
The other kids, stresses with Dad, betrayal,
or just no time any more.
When did I lose whatever strength that I had.
When did I start needing the pain to be salved.
Certainly by second grade,
by the time of the day dreaming,
staring out of the windows.
Why has it crippled me so,
continued to starve my heart of its strength and endurance.
Continued to drain from me creativity and joy.
So that all I remember is the pain and struggle.
So that I cry.
So that my heart hurts.
This crying is wrong,
this hurting is wrong,
this needing is wrong,
this me is wrong.
My mother too vivid.
My pain too awful.
What was my mother to do?
Could she have said:
"You're a boy, express yourself, show yourself.
Be a man. Uncover your nature.
You will need to be virile, whole, engaged, reveling in sensuality to be a man.
You will need to be smart, in touch, enjoying the game.
Talk about it.,
Say what you need.
Ask what you want.
Go on from there.
Be, be you."
Tis too late now for that.
My world is spun.
It doesn't encourage discovery.
It needs order.
It needs peacefulness.
It needs relief.
Copyright © Fitz Cook