‘round My Neck
by Odin Roark

Didn’t know what to call IT,
This thing I discovered traveling.
So many years IT played me,
Used my neck to hang from.

Remembering back…

That first awareness,
Starting out like a secret,
Not like a coveted decoder ring—
My buddy Steve always got his in the mail first—
More like those dog tags John Wayne
And the other tough guys dangled against their chests.
Like a dream seen through rail car windows,
A ride seemed without end.

Then I realized one day
‘round my neck was a whistle on a chain,
A call for help I hesitated to blow.

Years passed,
Schoolyard bullies disappeared,
Along with the whistle
‘til one day…

IT was so light,
Just her birthstone ring
Strung through a Five and Dime Store chain,
Loosely touching my heart.
We were going steady.

But then…

They got anchored in my head,
The people supposedly blessed and wise,
Telling me life was merely a test,
That I was bonkers thinking
Living was going to be fair, safe and secure.

That’s when the shape changed,
Weight got heavier,
Ounces went to pounds,
Pulling my head down,
My eyes seeing less and less sky.

“Quite a trip you carved for yourself,”
My other self admonished,
Telling me IT was nothing but shadows of doubt
Shrouding the brass ring
I never allowed myself to reach for.

One day IT disappeared.

Years went by
As gravity took over.
Feet became corn-laden.
Knees popped and crunched.
Veins grew from trickles
To rivers on my hands.
Face wrinkles became valleys and gorges,
Folding toward the infamous neck,
Now shorter like everything else,
Allowing less room for anything
To hang from.

Reflecting became rocking chair moments.
So many nameless weigh stations remembered,
Carrying the years ‘round my neck to the next scale
‘til my other self finally told me,
“This is the thing,
The IT,
The why and who you never dared meet.”

I stepped off the train.
The empty platform was really…
Empty.

Just me recognizing me.

Finally.