Not Going Back

The days became weeks
The weeks months, the months years
And so many tears, yes, so many tears

So you shouldn’t be surprised
At this image in a broken mirror
When the fragments morph together
That will be me you see
Fingers clinched, index on the trigger
Stoic in the jaw
That’s the law
Of not going back

You might say, “Put the gun down”
But I’m not going back
Do you hear the piano softly from afar?
Do you smell the day-old stale scent of cigar?
Do you, too, wonder where you are?
See the last evaporating fumes of alcohol breath
At the intersection look left, right, and then again left
Watch for that car that will spin you dead
Watch for the spiders above your bed
Watch for the failing engine, sniff for invisible gas
Have you held your breath underwater wondering if it was your last?

Are you so afraid of going back
That you are armed?
Carrying the gun like a religious charm?
If you bore the piece like me
You would know
Where anguish resides and fear doth grow
Where flowers hide and wait for the sun
Photosynthesis taken on the run
Down a bag a candy and feel the high
Knowing the love only by and by

And knowing why oh why
That some stay armed
Waving the gun in the sky
Back against the wall
Tired of running

Why oh why
He waves his gun in the sky