The Boy I Used to Be

To the boy I used to be —

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

You did so well with what you had.

You navigated the infamous survivor mode

like a boss.

You used your heart as a child and young man —

but slowly, the walls started rising.

In our twenties, we lived like young men live,

but by thirty, the walls were high,

the roof was sealed,

no doors, no windows.

We became bitter friends with pain.

And worst of all —

we learned to hate what we had become.

The civil war inside had started —

we learned to turn on ourselves,

to hate what we had become.

Oh brother —

our Browning became an option,

an escape we almost chose.

We came close to becoming 8 grams heavier —

a body without a soul.

But God…

our angels, teachers, guides, and ancestors

were always there —

silently waiting, teaching, guiding, protecting.

Now —

forty years in the wilderness are over.

We move forward

into the promised land.

⸻

The Handing Over

And so we stand,

the boy I was

and the man I am becoming —

no longer divided,

but united.

The weight you carried,

I now take.

The battles you fought,

I now honor.

We move forward together —

you no longer protecting,

but resting,

while I lead us both.

⸻

The Bridge — Into The Waiting

And so we stepped forward —

not yet the man we are becoming,

but no longer the boy we used to be.

We entered the quiet.

The in-between.

The wilderness after the war.

In the silence,

we learned to sit with our regrets,

to forgive what we cannot change.

As i wait…