The man I am.

Another Poetry Drop

I’m back with another poetry drop. It's been a while since I last posted anything here. I pulled back from writing for various reasons. I have been attending to my family after the death of my father-in-law. I have also been dealing with exhaustion due to a lack of sleep caused by the pain in my hip. I have good days and bad days, but on my good days, I have other priorities like working on the No Cap Fund, helping my wife with Hardhits, and being a dad, so writing is secondary.

I had a few moments this weekend to jot down my thoughts, and I thought I would share them with you.

The man I am.
 
I was born, but I couldn’t breathe.
God touched my face
and gave me a second chance.
 
I have been many things with that chance.
I’ve been the boy in the baseball cap,
the man in the fancy clothes,
the guy in the flannel,
and the old man with a cane.
 
But each version of me walks the same path—
following my father’s footsteps,
waving to my neighbors,
chatting with the barista,
offering a hand when my hands are free.

My greatest wound:
my fathers left me alone—
left me to do the work,
to solve the problems.
 
Not because they didn’t love me,
but because they did, because they believed in me.
Once, I was resentful
Now, I am grateful
 
Still, I struggle to forgive them.
 
I love the way the sun warms my body and mind,
but I hate the way it burns my skin.
I toil in the morning heat,
then scurry to the shade,
where I rest and read.
 
I have been a follower and a leader.
A child, an employee,
a boss, a parent.
I can teach and learn.
I can listen and speak—
sometimes one more than the other.
 
But sometimes, I am a crutch—
doing for others what they should do for themselves,
carrying more than I should,
because I fear rejection— being left alone.
 
Sometimes I give so much
that there is nothing left for me.
I wear a pin on my backpack that says “Fearless,”
but the truth is, I am a coward.

And this struggle
is only a part of me—
gasping for breath,
trying to forgive myself. 
  
I want to be a coach, not a crutch.
A bridge, not a cane.
I want to reflect to those around me
that they can do anything.
 
That means teaching and encouraging,
holding hands and carving paths.
But sometimes, it means walking away.
Letting them fall, so they pick themselves up.
 
And this artificial world,
pulls me farther
from the person I want to be—
from the ones I love.
 
It traps me under fluorescent lights,
and behind glowing screens.
I am comfortable,
but I am not happy.
 
I am drained from the pursuit
of a better life,
requesting the liberty
declared years ago.
 
I want to play with my children in the rain,
kiss my wife under the moon,
spend my days writing poetry
beneath a blue, endless sky. 
 
I want to be a comedian,
telling jokes late at night,
vacationing to the ends of the earth
and eating the food of kings.
 
But that is not the life my fathers carved for me
I must find joy in the dollar menu,
telling stories and making my family laugh.
 
So don’t feel bad for me.
I’m living on second chances
others never get.
 
My children’s smiles
energize my soul,
and my wife can turn
any budget into a feast.
 
I want to be a better son.
A better husband. 
A better father.
 
But I am the man I am,
doing the best I can.
And I trust my fathers are right—
that it might just be enough.

Thank you for reading. Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments.

Peace and Love,

Jeff Mayhugh