He stands at the rejected doorway
Heavy shoulders waiting
Loss crinkling in his corners
He stands at a remote crossroads
With the world at his side
And a smile bright as a coin
He cries deep like a well
Like a tree whose sap is blood
With the slow grief of a cosmos
I saw him there
Because I was searching his face
As I hurt him
He hunches over the barely-food
That will never be his, recalling
When nothing was needed, not had.
He was cut by the foreign stones of home
But they could not reach
His blow carved deeper than his bone
This man whose name is mine
I saw him stumble
Because I saw my blunt face ripple
In the murky puddle.
He leaps from the doorway
A bird set free from time's cold cage
Tears paint laughter in every line
A man ditching dignity
To reclaim a son.
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