crept across my day, freezing
my all ready wet and damp limbs
ill prepared for the suddenness
of the rain, the hail, the floods
pounding at my half dead carcass
as I dragged it across the night
scraping knees, bloodied,
to the refuge of the shelter…
made of cardboard and particle board
magazines, newspapers my bed.

Somehow you found me
in my rubble, collapsing
lent your hand, pulled me close
to your heart, kicking aside the imitations of life
I called home
without someone
like you.

We re-write the present
for the future
retouching the past with brushstrokes
only artists of elegance can make
until our canvas is readied for new paint
earth tones that breed clarity and calmness
erasing the bleakness
of the blackened sky
that caused the shadows
the self-hatred, the fear
of a man who believed
he was not worthy of friendship
let alone love.
Let us look for others
as the one slave you set free
and pay it forward
shall we?