A Letter to Us

By Joshua Lefort

Ink to paper I lay down,

A heaviness at the centre of my world,

I breathe out.

I am a student of man.

I burn bright: spark lit, smoke abound, 

But the past follows me home.

Branded by love’s pain-stricken crest,

I’m condemned by no hand but my own.

I’m star-strung like Vitruvian art,

Pulled by what I never amounted to be.

Sedative in clothes,

Validation well sewn,

But still, I stain red.

To you, I admit that after all,

I know not what came to mind,

Died within and festered at my lips.

I was lost.

Many times, I looked up,

But couldn’t find where.

Thought back, but couldn’t remember when.

Asked, but couldn’t find who.

You tried.

Defeated and strained,

Face up, you froze up,

Outside in the cold,

Alone, I left you. 

With broken knees and unmet needs,

You stumbled to a crawl

With whispers of hope

And the courage of speech.

“How do we move past this?”

Mad at the question,

Stirred by the confusion it created,

Debating with the silence it evaded,

I stood with clenched fists and pursed lips.

You, I was afraid to lose,

But this internal implosion

Yearned for a light I couldn’t diffuse. 

Heart in sight, knife in hand,

Like a hypocrite, I sought to claim sight.

In sand, I sat on a throne— 

I ruled amongst all that

Shines bright, glitters and gold.

I even dared challenge the sun

’Til I was struck down,

Forced to walk amongst His own.

Now, distal fractals of broken promises,

Shattered dreams and heavy memories

Fill the vast and barren lands

I call solitude.

You’re heart-guarded,

Wishing we were soul-parted,

But still I speak

With the absence of a presence

I have yet to fill.

Your burning breath

Sets ablaze a nurturing force

That grows within reach of silence.

In the buzzing of your absence,

A boy you’ve left to die,

And in the blessings of His presence,

A man he has become.

Excalibur in hand and courage at heart,

I stand open-hearted and tender-eared,

Facing front, a full-length mirror.

I’ve wept, knelt, and atoned before my own.

I don’t have much left to say,

But much more to feel.

I am mute of flowered apologies.

I promise to hug you

And your thorns.

I wait not for time,

I wait for you.

By Joshua Lefort