this absence

why is it so hard to get through a day like this? you don't have to be lonely when you are alone, i seem to hear the molecules of the air whisper these faint positive messages. i turned up some random familiar album and drowned out the condescension. why is it that a series of momentous absence be so hard to garner and live out? is there really something wrong with me? Yes, so it seems I am so fucked up inside. And some clinical label will be attached to it yet.

perhaps that is why there are so many movies made about people who fade away as they spend their waking hours and dreams missing the ones they have grown to love, trust and fear. we are the sum of our family ties.

And begs that question why God would bring my feet to this place to love and let me heart be tagged with another breathing fellow when the love that left my father's heart froze my summer and lead me to a place of seeming peace and serenity? It's the kind of love I never knew existed in my personal definition.

And when I found it, how it warmed and melted the cold cold heart and gave birth to an infant boy who can't wait to grow up into cowboy, warrior, father. How this heart leaped onto it's feet and for the first time actually wanted to grow up to be someone strong and confident. I woke up this morning and half between consciousness and uncertainty found myself wanting to grow up to be half the man my brother is. Like bumblebee, not completely with the streetwise, but strong enough, grounded and fathered.

I want to be able to go show my friends my new soccer boots, bat for some football club, passionate in the grandstand to the cheer of 30,000 fans and just... play ball.

And yet it still feels incomplete. The little stolen hugs to heal haven't quite delivered past the crevices and cracks. The absence in the air often brings me to my knees wanting just one more, just one more moment to usher me to equilibrium. It's like walking across a bridge with many missing planks and who can blame for this inconfidence and a soul not quite complete.

home does not feel like home anymore. like a hotel without a concierge, a backpackers stand without a night switch, a bed without a mattress or blanket. i cry too much and i don't like it. my fond heart is growing too old and grey and I don't like it.

In my teenage years, I found my home in the alcohol street corners. I found my dysfunctional family through the restless peddlers selling fast food fixes to hungry kids like me. I found safety. A home. I had a life. How did I get here to know this much and yet be so far from it? To know how incomplete you are is the gravest situation one can arrive at. One only God can, in His mercy, save and rescue.

Where, Oh God, is your rescue mission? Where Oh mighty saviour, is my safety harness to haul me out of this whirlpool swallowing me? Don't let me wait for more than 48 hours in this cold. You know this forming pneumonia is a bitch to cure and I want to be healed, I want to be well.

Well enough to play with my boys when they are learning to wield their toy swords and protect and subdue the earth as the mighty men you will have them grow up to be.

So give me this day my daily yeast.