Climbing Home

Mother of mine, my mouth trembles, my heart fades, and I see nothing but frozen lines. Put me aside, light up the engine. My eyes only see the lock of time. I climb with ache, unwilling, but moving forward. I come closer to our faded hurt— my wailing cries and dirty diapers belong in the empty pail. My pouts of pain and crooked smiles are on the canvas. In this roaring moment of time, I see your face. It melts my anger and throws me closer near the pinnacle of my salvation. There lies a heart, powdered in black confetti, waiting to be crowned with sacred thorns and velvet drops of my ultimate redemption.