He begs pardons.
Silly awkward kid,
standing there dripping from his wet palms.
I’m scared mom.
Its like I’m going to war
with rubber knees and lack arms.
Should i strap bombs?
He’s ready to die for a cause,
but he cant even feel the ground he steps on.
Struggling to breathe but the fear is airborne.
Hates the hope of living,
but that’s all he depends on.
What are the odds,
That he’s back in this box?
That he’s back on all fours?
Man there was barely a pause.
But he thanks God for carrying him across.
Then says I’m sorry,
that i couldn’t carry my cross.
13 Nov 2022/ Jon Lau
ILLiteratepoet 