Beginnings Ad Infinitum
Sleep cut short, and I awaken aware
again to fatherhood’s ongoing traumas,
nightmarish images of a lost son
wandering through sleazy shadows,
seeking solace, crying out
in pain: I read the letter before me, written
words scrawled on a dirty napkin, reaching
from a bottomed-out soul. A struggle begins
with a gentle tug, your pulling away
bringing only momentary escape
from the bonds of medicated misery this time.
Now, days of torture punctuate withdrawal.
In dreams I envision the healing;
My hands reach out, but never quite grasp you.
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