Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

The chair sits empty, 
worn smooth by worry. 
His absence, a gaping hole 
in the fabric of our days. 
 
Will he ever walk through that door again? 
Not a ghost of himself, 
hollow-eyed and shaking, 
but my son, whole, vibrant, breathing life? 
 
The phone rings, a jolt of fear. 
Is it him? 
Or another voice, 
heavy with bad news? 
 
Sleep offers no escape, 
only replays of memories, 
a boy with scraped knees and a bright smile, 
a teenager arguing about curfew, 
a young man lost in the shadows. 
 
Each sunrise brings a renewed ache, 
a fresh wave of hope dashed on the rocks 
of harsh reality. 
The world moves on, oblivious, 
but my world is frozen, 
stuck in this agonizing wait. 
 
I search his face in every crowd, 
a desperate longing in my eyes. 
A mother's love, a stubborn flame, 
refusing to be extinguished 
by the darkness of addiction. 
 
Will I ever see him again, 
clean, sober, free? 
Will he find his way back 
from that treacherous path? 
 
The question echoes, 
a constant, silent prayer, 
carried on the wind, 
whispered to the stars. 
Come home, my son. 
Just come home.