I haven’t quite gotten over the fact that
My father tried to hang himself when
His life seemed too much to bear
When his veins finally got the best of him.
I hope he realized when the knot slipped
And his improperly wound noose unraveled,
That he was stronger than what he brought
Himself to become, stronger than what he is

I can see Chinese sailboats not quite faring
n foreign waters, with black sails flying
Upon rotting masts that could be stabbed with
The bluntest of pipes, or the sharpest of swords
But don’t bother, there is no use anymore

There are only sore throats here
Rope burns on necks, sore jugular veins
Voice boxes scratchy and rusted from the din
Of anguish and something that felt like heartbreak
That collapse of the soul, the empowerment once
Felt deep in the confines, in the ruins as they now lay.

I have viewed the fall of an empire
Something much worse than merely Rome or the Ottoman
I figure he is a nomad now, a roaming migrant who
Will only give time to what might matter to him,
The people who will wish him the best with his endeavors
Whatever they may be, wherever they might lead him
I trust he has found the direction that has been missing
For oh so long, all those drowsy days, and sleepless nights
Obliterated from memory banks that ran dry of currency
When the market crashed on that fateful day.