The day I wrote this next poem, I started writing this post. I have written many drafts. Each version filled with anger, confusion, a little dash of denial, splash of oversharing. Primarily defeat. 

I thought by releasing The Essence and the Detail, I had said all I needed to say about the people and events of the past few years. But I guess not. Funny thing how we think we can just shut our eyes and keep out the blaring light. 

It's difficult to tell a story without actually giving specifics, I'll tell you that. This next one is about a relationship I experienced a few years ago, while I was inside the relationship, I was screaming to get out, but did not know how to. I forged characters in my poetry in an attempt to say it out loud, but I failed miserably. And though years have since past, it doesn't get any easier to speak up.

To say that, however, is to form a paradox from the poem itself. Freedom can mean many things. For me, to have been freed meant I was back at the bottom, with a chance to grow, bend, dance and change, and strangely I recall feeling that for a short time. I changed my hair, I grew into what I am now, I bent and perhaps a bit too much. I am yet to dance.

So, here's Barry's Van. Take it in.

Barry's Van

It’s not a secret.

It’s not a superpower.

I will be yours forever.

Falling -

Gently, you whisper.

Dust particles surf the light.

The blue of your eyes;

Oceans.

I felt it only once.

Hip to hip,

One seat for us both:

Sharing.

He can make you marvelous.

He can make you real.

I know because I am,

Now.

The day of love;

The tan and the silk.

I believed you then;

Once.

The person I was is not who I know.

You were always a mystery.

There was no room for me:

Ego.

He asked me once

Why I was around:

These years were mine to hold,

Individually.

A silver van for a golden man.

Two years boxed in.

One too many lies:

Excuses.

Temporary and insignificant:

It all came with the package.

All out of view of the shot,

Hidden.

Did you learn what it was to be a man?

It hit me in the moment,

And, again, since.

Twice.

Respect and sincerity,

Trust and commitment.

Appearance in forms:

Clean.

It applies to us both.

Our souls did not dance.

The sun did not shine,

Often.

The smog skewed my view.

I was an imposter.

I said too much at once:

Insecure.

Sitting there, silent,

I soaked it in.

Few words were spoken but I was released:

Free.

27 Oct 2020