This poem was originally published in Art With Words.

Boy Lost
© 2005
Dan Johnson

This was a lad of the fifties,
his youth, now long gone, only dreams, fondly schemes of what was and what he wished would be, the truth of his life.

Roots run deep, twisting, turning, there are secrets to keep, also means there are secrets to tell. All his memories are secretly buried in what was a living hell.

Told by the perpetrator of unspeakable deeds,“This is a secret we must keep, just you and me.” He was tall, mean looking and greasy, even his smile.

The boy a lad of sixteen…innocent, confused, hungry, lost in a world where he’d never be seen…or missed.
Then tall and greasy found him wandering, begging

To be kissed with the blessing of acceptance…sadly kisses were verbal beatings leaving him beaten bloody in his heart and soul. Never to find in that time someone to hold his hand.

Gym class was a living hell. The lad was chubby, sometimes bubbly,
But when class was held in that locker room; where all the world
sees you for who or what you are. He fell in utter defeat…to his knees,

To satisfy some carnal need. But the P.E. teacher smiled. “I’ll hold your hand, he said. I’ll teach you to understand, he said”
Understanding survival is what the lad had learned. He learned quite well.

On the street, at school, a jungle, a war zone, no safe place,
No safety at home, under that roof was a drunk for a father,a mother, afraid of her shadow, afraid of tomorrow.

When drunken Dad wanted to lead a toast, a cheer,to his friends, he’d say I want to introduce you to…
The family queer, a little fairy, if you will…pointing to the lad.

No refuge, no place to rest his head, often wished he was dead,
But the things he loved were soft, spiritual, comforting, only
wanting to be the individual he was. And that kept him alive.

By the time the lad graduated high school, parents said,
You have one week to find a job, pay rent, or you’ll be out
On your own…you freaky little fool.

That night he packed his bags, left the house, never thought it was a home, not concerned about the cost,
Continued his journey as a boy…still lost.