Swimming Lessons

Money doesn’t make the man,

his word does,

but loose lips grow quiet

in dark alleys,

not Nasdaq floors,

so, any decent man

would be detoured

from doing the right thing,

especially one with

mouths to fill

and a roof to keep.

I hang my head low

watching the ground move

beneath me as I walk home.

My pride and ego

both cleansed

by the emptiness of the morning,

but it’s within the shadows that I blend in.

I wear the black for them.

Upon my broken back

they eat their breakfast,

and wash it all down

with discounted milk

and cartoon giggles,

using my stained shirts as napkins.

I don’t care

because as long as they’re full,

they sleep well,

and make it to the bus on time

I am doing something right.

God knows there Ain’t much

I’ve gotten right,

but I’ve never begged, borrowed,

or cheated to survive.

Some do

and some win,

but most pay the price.

Living among the filth

keeps you true,

and most of the time

the truth is all you have—

And being quiet

adds another box on that calendar

to be Ex’d

filling you with the hope

that you’d be lucky enough

to find a way out

before it’s too late.

Even if all the riches

filled every ocean,

today’s children would drown

trying to swim them

because uncharted waters

and false horizons lead to certain death—

But wearing a suit of black

can be a heavy burden

dragging you under just the same,

especially as the riptide of the world

pulls at you.

So, why teach them how to wear that heavy suit?

Because I want them to struggle enough

to learn how to swim upstream,

and be learned enough to know

when the water’s too rapid

to get out.

I want them to hold their breaths knowing

that air will eventually come back

and they will resurface

because every night

they watched their dad disappear into the shadows

always bringing the sunrise back with him.

I want them to know

if he did it

then they could too.