The Only Road

He sits on sidewalks with cups of hot foam to warm hands beneath gloves. Not standing. Not walking. Now perhaps he is grown, carrying the weight - the perceived weight, the presumed weight, the weight of the world. Elsewhere there are loved ones lost, a child cries, a father is widowed. Somewhere. Yet phones are ringing and tears are spent and questions asked, and he is acutely aware... His turn has come to suffer that loss. He wonders, searching for the strength to stand. Hoping... hoping? Either way, there are only two options that remain: Sit, and stay warm, or stand and walk hard into the ice, so cold, so harsh against his brow. That is the only road that leads to somewhere other than here.