In a fit of rage I bolted for the world
never to return to my boyhood room
never to return
to my father’s dreams
and I ask myself
was it rage or a desperate escape
a need to breathe fresh unfamiliar air
So I left the smokestacks of my youth
the looming towers called my name
and I refused to answer
industrial mindset
to stay, company men
with dirty
pensions and shoes
a seduction by the comfort of its nature
a prison of convenience to subdue
our flight response,
keeping us in the mines.
I left the streets I knew
a quiet promise never to return
a quiet promise in all but spite and fear
and then drove blindly into the void
one shallow breath at a time
repeating the mantra
I used to be what I am now, only so much less.
I hear my father still expects me home
maybe one day he will get his way
if the smokestacks crumble
if his heart remains
and if mine has changed.
Afton Light, 2020
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