Email Poem

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Poem

His meds kept Andrew sane
He lived with us, no one to blame
But one day he refused his pills
I knew what that meant, a battle of wills.

In a few days voices told Andrew to leave.
He vanished, left a note I didn’t believe.
I tracked his SIM card to Idaho.
I had lots on my plate but I had to go.

At Boise airport, I rented a car.
From there I let instinct be my guiding star
I thought Andrew would go where wild horses run
So I drove northward to find my son.

The scenery had its beauty, the mountains were high
The snow on their peaks merged with clouds in the sky
In the Challis grassland, antelope roam
But my son wasn't meant for a cowboy poem.

I drove since midnight, no sleep to be had
My thoughts were racing about Andrew gone mad.
Then the sun rose over a ridge, a golden crest
The kind of view you only get in the American West.

I found nine horses grazing and a wraith was there
I recognized him by his red burning hair
He said “zombie pills are a high price to be sane
But I will relent, I will spare you more pain.”

I said "Your meds are the best that science can do
Let's drive home together, our relations renew
It's quite a backdrop you found; I like the aura
of the sunrise cresting the top of Mount Borah."

He took half a pill, we drove the Lost River east
After a while his false voices ceased.
Many years have passed since that madness attack
But stressed in my office, I often flash back

The image remains, stamped in my mind
Caught among the wild horses, a son to find,
I read my Wall Street Journal, and the thought haunts me
So many people are their worst enemy.
I saved him, but who will save me?

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