the void

in the hills near front royal
a young boy lives 
with his mom and her husband
and their other kid

he’s as happy as a pig in mud
he don’t care about the blame or the blood
the fact is he really couldn’t give a hoot
any kinda stranger just don’t compute

home up high along the ridge
far atop the smog and smoke
out beyond the rainbow bridge
they don’t fix what ain’t been ‘broke’

for here are the blue skies 
over the green grass
and time passes slowly
everything’s always perpetual bliss 
and everyone loves him just how he is

(oblivious) the young boy wonders
(impervious to pain) ‘bout things like
skippin’ stones and rocket ships and raisin’ cain
and it’s so comfy cozy here
why cross the void in vain?

‘coz over the rainbow – somewhere, he’s told
hidden in the clover is a pot of gold
and bluebirds sing sweet melodies
that soar within his skull
and every fear he ever had
is stamped cancelled: void & null

he's understandably overwhelmed
by the sheer magnitude
of a leap across this gaping maw
that yawns before him
but into the great unknown
he reaches out –

and he’s touched my love
(which for him burns ever brightly)
affected by the miles between us 
only slightly

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

it’s not all that far as the crow flies
from them hills to bryans road
that’s where the young boy's father lives
with his wife and dogs (but no kids)

and he don’t know me from adam
he don’t know me from a hole in the ground
but I sure wish I had him
to hold and be around

home is where the heart is
I’m happy here but still
there’s a damn good part of me 
that’s livin’ in them hills

however blue my sky
there’s a black cloud hangin’ like a real bad joke
however green my grass
the dandelions and the wild weeds choke
whatever joy I find (in the back of my mind) 
there’s something ‘broke’

there’s a hole in my soul
you could drive an 18-wheeler through
and back up to the loading dock
and pack that bad boy to the top
with senseless shame and pointless pain
and ride around the void in vain

but over the rainbow – somewhere, I’m told
hidden in the clover is a pot of gold
and bluebirds sing sweet melodies
that soar within my skull
and all this guilt and heartache
is stamped cancelled: paid in full

in my wildest dream 
or far fetched fantasy
we chance at last my son to meet
and numbly from this hazy daze
(and days amid this crazy maze)
I reach out –

and I touch your love
(which I pray that I have not destroyed)
by all this time that I’ve been traveling
blindly through the void


huntly, virginia  07/1991
bryans road, maryland  3/30/1992