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May 2017
I've been static for so long
Trapped in my own amber
Now free all I want to do is run
All I want to do is live
Is it better to run too fast, too far?
Or to stay safe in amber?
All I want to do is you.

Trapped in my own amber
I let the world pass me by
I watched the years roll on
My mother died. So did my dogs.
I miss the dogs more.
Will she forgive me?

Even if I run where will I go?
Amber doesn't provide job skills
Or look good on a resume.
Maybe I should just run
Not caring where I go
If I stop, the amber may return
I can feel it chasing me

If I stop to think
The doubts return
Half-***, idiot, lazy
Worthless, greedy, cruel
The doubts are gifts from Mom
I was the cruel one.
Just a kid.
I miss my dogs.

I want to run to you
To run with you
I think that I can keep up
If you don't sprint
The wind and the sun remind me
What it's like to be alive
I think I can get through anything.
If I keep thinking about my dogs.

When I was a boy I liked camping
The mountains and the redwoods
Were fantasy realms made real
Reading by firelight never hurt my eyes
The smells and the sounds gave me peace
Alone in my tent I could dream
And do what boys do
When we were camping
My mom didn't yell
So maybe it wasn't me

I have someone new that I want to camp with
To hold by the firelight and let them read to me
To hike the wild trails and see their face
The first time they realize the tree
They're standing next to is a thousand years old
But birds chirp in my ear
"Don't trust them, they're not real"
Their voices are thick and syrupy
I do my best to ignore them

I still hear my mother's voice
Yelling the same things as always
When I'm tired or the black dog bites
I hear her in my mind and feel her words strike home
Maybe it was me after all
It wasn't
It was never me
I wish that I could miss her

You're calling me now
The new voice
We all try to escape our mothers
Most of us fail
Free of the amber I run with you
And we escape together.
Leaving birds and mothers behind
"Let's get a dog" I say.
You answer - "Let's get two."


© 2016
From last year. I still don't miss my mother as I think I should. The new voice isn't as new, but we're still making good our escape. Together.

Don't let life trap you.
Jonathan P Bryant
Written by
Jonathan P Bryant  California
(California)   
487
 
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