Unseasoned Wood
By 78harley
The bicycle lay beside my driveway.Your only possession is tossed askew and is resting from your flight.I know you have again sought refugeHere in your temporary sanctuaryIn the distance is the sound of a hammer carefully driving your release into a nail.The juvenile carpenter constructing something, anything that you can have complete control over. I approach your blossoming masculinity,surveying your surroundings for evidenceto tell me what is wrong, what has brought you here, what has made you run this time.The soft down of a young mustache is not substantial enough to conceal a smile. It flaunts resoluted strengthWhen the sweat of your brow Cascades down upon the white. I know you need this escape today.The memories were finding their way back inside your innocent façadeYour hammer pounds out determined frustration to make the wall thickerTo insulate you from the outside As soundless as possibleStepping softly on your unstable ground,I cross the invisible perimeter you have set.You look at me with a raw attempt at being nonchalant.I notice the wisdom in your eyes is beginning to launch its growthThough your naivety doesn’t yet know it. I grasp your arm to steady your stance and slowly take away your method of escape.As the hammer drops to the ground, your heart echoes the dull thud it makes causing you to reach out to me for balance.My arms cannot tell you why your mother died.My thoughts cannot tell you where your father is.My tears cannot give you the needed identity you search for but always find elusive. I hold you until you are done holding me.Then I look you straight in the face.You read my eyes then slowly nod your head, realizing it is time to go home.The one they decided you should live in.The one you will run away from again when your quest overwhelms your heart.I offer you myself as a doormat to stand upon until you are old enough to find a path of your own.There will always be an abundance of wood scrap and nails and bandages of spiritFor you to build your temporary castle. Written September 8th, 2001 © on Sep 08 2001 03:00 AM PST 0 • 9
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"The bicycle lay beside my driveway.Your only possession is tossed askew and is resting from your flight.I know you have again sought refugeHere in your temporary sanctuaryIn the distance is the sound of a hammer carefully driving your release into a nail.The juvenile carpenter constructing something, anything that you can have complete control over. I approach your blossoming masculinity,surveying your surroundings for evidenceto tell me what is wrong, what has brought you here, what has made you run this time.The soft down of a young mustache is not substantial enough to conceal a smile. It flaunts resoluted strengthWhen the sweat of your brow Cascades down upon the white. I know you need this escape today.The memories were finding their way back inside your innocent façadeYour hammer pounds out determined frustration to make the wall thickerTo insulate you from the outside As soundless as possibleStepping softly on your unstable ground,I cross the invisible perimeter you have set.You look at me with a raw attempt at being nonchalant.I notice the wisdom in your eyes is beginning to launch its growthThough your naivety doesn’t yet know it. I grasp your arm to steady your stance and slowly take away your method of escape.As the hammer drops to the ground, your heart echoes the dull thud it makes causing you to reach out to me for balance.My arms cannot tell you why your mother died.My thoughts cannot tell you where your father is.My tears cannot give you the needed identity you search for but always find elusive. I hold you until you are done holding me.Then I look you straight in the face.You read my eyes then slowly nod your head, realizing it is time to go home.The one they decided you should live in.The one you will run away from again when your quest overwhelms your heart.I offer you myself as a doormat to stand upon until you are old enough to find a path of your own.There will always be an abundance of wood scrap and nails and bandages of spiritFor you to build your temporary castle...."