in that moment, I happened to stare up
towards the brown-bricked wall
painted in plain lemon yellow color
and the orange sunset light
all that refracted light from branches
fell on the wall, silently, and softly.
at that moment, I remembered vaguely
yes, I used to think sentimentally.
I used to smile nostalgically at the
warmth of a mother bird cooing the babies
in her nest, ever so protected from outside
word, so warm and fuzzy and soft and safe —
I almost forgot that previous version of me,
which, I think is only a thought or two away
from now, used to have overflowing feelings.
I — it was at that moment I realized — had
promised myself that I would come back.
that once all these battles incurred by
pesty intruders were finished, I’d come back.
That we would smile, feel easy with trust,
and make jokes whose smile won’t stop
once we were done with just this one job.
but then I saw my hands and they were rusty
they were the hands that tasted the prize.
they were hungry and the would not stop.
everything made sense. everything was logical. everything was justified.
my heart was hallowed with flames of justice.
my spine, thickened with battle scars.
then, alone in the park, when no one wanted
me, I stared at the bricked wall, bouncing off the warm orange sunset light with shades of
bare tree branches,
and I realized:
I used to be soft.
I used to have feelings.
I used to cry for the mother bird.
when I stop, will I ever lay my head again
to the soft songs in the warmth and beauty?
will I be forgiven?
will I know it was worth it at the end?
I walked back from the park
and the darkness fell
but that light in my eyes wouldn’t go away.
perhaps it is the beginning of everything after all.
11.15.2021
Ralph with Coffee 