Moralizing One’s Compass

A father dreams of getting it right finally
succumbs to sweat drenched nightmares

Somewhere
he stumbles about
to clear the room
guitar
video games
posters

Broad stairs to the garage
once of stable hardwood
now rickety rotted support
creaking of memories crushed
once plush carpet soft with warmth
now but cold cinders beneath his feet

Sensory deprivation smiles
releases starving glimpses of love
once bathed by generous moonlight
spilling from window
to banister
to door
to now barren concrete

Here
children's eyes once visualized
what freedom's wheels would be like

The father wanders outside
stares blankly on the gray-white night
reflecting off algae encrusted pool
now with but deflated basketball
adrift

Through surrounding weeds and shrubs
GI Joe action figures shimmer their loneliness as well
staring like him at the pool's granite carved beachhead
imagination's vast ocean of backyard fantasy
now quiet
make-believe war
since reduced to the calm of real battles lost
jungle rot's toxic fumes
saturating all

No prisoners taken

History

The scuffling of his slippers
rake the humid night's heaviness
like sandpaper dragging across
memory's fine threaded tapestry

Lying down among the overgrowth
he peers through broken limbs
crumbling leaves
moon
water
house

Eyes squeezed shut deliver regret's creative gallery
a lifetime installation
perhaps never meant to be walked through

Yet...

Such are musings
sometimes destined
to be but nightmares
while dreams remain forever
awake in the heart