The Man I Miss

The Man I Miss

(“I will bring a gift, and offer a sacrifice to you, Lord. I will praise your name because you are good.” Psalm 54:6)

It was not a snowy wood I stopped by,
I knew little of countryside lanes or gravel roads;
but somewhere a thousand miles from here and
and barely ready to begin my journey
I made the fateful turn that, untested and unlearned,
landed me so far away
I now am uncertain of who I am who began.

Memorization was the skill I was glad to leave behind,
but I lost, too high a cost, the comrades of invention,
comedic improvisation, and jazz dabbling at hand-
writing
on napkins for the final scene’s soliloquy.

Tuition was high and funds were low,
I followed a whisper like God’s forecast of snow,
and turned on my heel to follow (I know, scholarships
could steal what I refused to borrow). I called
it
faith,
and still believe it was so,
but nearer last than beginning now,
I forgot who I might be and only know every
voice that knew I could have done it better or
spoken clearer or
believed cleaner or
chosen sooner or
stayed longer or
prayed better or
grayed later and memorized every line
I should have toed, every step that I was told
would keep me in good graces.

It isn’t the noises in my head left there from people I dreaded
senseless,
(I’m not the only one with an ill-brained acoustic loop)
I erected fences to guide me safe (I felt defenseless)
and found I lost the man I was happy with along the way.

I’m a solo thirsty for a choir,
a monologue craving a scene,
and I want to reacquaint myself with
the good boy who knew the world was
made for laughter, creation, experiments
and late night ice cream runs.

All that keeps me sane, even when the I’ve emptied the
fifth bucket of lonely boy tears,
is know You are good, so good, to love someone
who feels to be only half a human, me plus the
me I haven’t spoken to in two decades:

Maybe three.