My Friend Mac

MY FRIEND MAC

Sometimes you can never go back
to the clapping hands and stomping feet
of the night they forgot the grace you lack
and gave an old man a watch that beat,
it’s way down the years well spent
waxing the floors and clearing the vents
proud gait folding straight to bent
as he collected a pension with a wave and went,
back to the days when his children were young
when his hair was rich and his eyes were bright
when he could hear each sweet note his wife ever sung
to their boy as he slept in the deepness of night.
When he rose each morning with an eager smile
ready to conquer hardships and trials
then his bones were young, shined shoes in style
but now what he’d give for just one more mile.
As he goes backwards again, back to his youth
with a mother and father and rules by the book
when he needed no reason, required no proof
and could be bought with a wink and a pretty girl’s look.
Fear was only a word, a word others said
no one he knew was sickly or dead
he ran down the streets never pausing to dread
a gold granite stone becoming his bed.
Now he can see as a child, the world is so big
his eyes fight to close there is too much to do
each breath that he takes, each hole that he digs
leaves a space in the sand he made just for you.
“Such a bright boy!” other parents would gawk
learning so young to speak and to talk
finding sure footing and starting to walk
while furiously ticking are the hands of the clock,
winding down a once agile mind
that now accepts pity and soft patting hands
that have medicines to give and bed sores to bind
believe me old man we will all understand
when our own oceans dry up and our sand piles go
when our records are silent and spin no songs
when everyone is someone I don’t know
when days are short and nights so long.
Please forgive the wisdom I lack
I am not you yet, and this question you ask,
I have no answer for you my friend, my friend Mac
where do you go when there is nowhere left to go back?