THE ROPE AROUND YOUR NECK U PUT THERE

You. You, I’m talking to You.

You swing out.

On the rope.

Holding on.

Then, there is the letting go.

A falling.

You are free. Then, you hit the water.

Not like the rope you put around your neck.

Last year.

In that Other Foster Home it was bad and I am sorry it was bad.

You did not deserve what was done to you.

It was not your fault.

You’re right. It wasn’t fair.

That rope around your neck.

That you put there.

That wasn’t fair either.

It wasn’t fair to me.

I didn’t know you then.

I was not the one who cut you down.

I wasn’t there.

It was a kid.

A Foster Kid.

Who found you.

Who cut you down.

Who saved you.

I want you to remember that.

It was not an adult.

I am sorry that we are so flawed.

Us adults.

If you had swung out.

Into that abyss you think will save you.

From this pain you feel.

I would never have had the opportunity to have known you.

I would never have that the sublime experience of seeing your amazing photographs.

You would be dead, Sweet Chariot.

Someone’s gonna carry you home.

If you will quite fighting me.

If you will let go of the new rope to fall into the lake, not the abyss of death that will hurt me, and bring me to my knees, please don’t do that, I will show you the entire lake in the new canoe.

There’s something in it. For You. The You of You who sits in the red chair and cries. Cry. I do. I have to. I cannot not cry. I don’t care what you say about crying is for babies.

You’re wrong.

Crying is for people.

You can learn to become very strong.

Paddling a canoe.

But you have to be alive to do it.

Coming after me. Coming for to carry you home.