I have felt this same feeling before.
Five years? Six years ago?
How would I forget it?
It's nothing close to feelings
of reminisce but closer to De Javu.
That feeling I forced down at the balcony
of the home I called home.

Right now I am standing
on this plateau just to catch
a breath before another long haul.

My breathe exhausted,
all I can think about
is the very generic prayers
I have said in the last two years.
Okay, no! It was March last year!
The night I prayed it from the depth
of my belly.
It was like the last gasp.
But that was then.
Right now I am caught in between
thanksgiving for what I didn't ask for

and just that one prayer I haven't been able to spill out.
and just that
one
prayer I haven't
been able to spill
out.

Yes, that one prayer.
You see, it's probably
the most important prayer
I will make before I'm 50.
But once again, I am hiding
secrets from my Father.

You guessed sir,
it's this same disease.
And it's this same me
walking around the garden
with leaves I plucked from
the neighbouring trees
after hearing you walk the garden.
This same garden you tended.

They say, You say ask and it will be given.
The only reason I haven't asked
is because I'm not sure you will give.
"Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead?"
But it is this fish. It is this fish that I want.
And yet the journey back seems really long.
I have felt this same feeling before.

The other day, I flipped through the pages of the paper but couldn't find the address.
No, not Williams Street.
You know it.

You know everything.