Aug 18, 2022
Looking outside through the window
(painting and poem)
barefoot on the grass looking in
memory of a home passed on
gliding through the door again
though the wood still stands
the house is not my own
when I was a child barefoot
on that same grass my dad
and I would have a catch
he would announce it like phil rizzuto
and we were the only people existing
when I look through the window glass again
I see my father reading to me from his history books
I never forgot the lessons of the past
and beg him above to heal the world with God
we grew and got sick in our own ways
from psych wardsfor me to nursing homes for him
adulthood took that security of a social net
instead of couches to surf
I call for beds availible
in an institution
for medication and compliance
all thre while remebering my dads last years on a memory ward
just as terrified with the routine as I am in chaos
when I all I want is sanctuary from the outside
all I need is a home
and a family
to call me safe
