Of Superman Flying

I was not there to catch you
your red cape behind you
the color to come.
They let you climb to the top
of the ladder without watching
let you leap
like my heart when I saw
the skin mottled with sharp
kisses of brown rocks
bleached red then brown again.
I was not there to catch you
and my hands worked in anger
at their stupidity
their lack of care with my
flesh, my bone, my body.
I held you close as you cried.
It is hard to learn you are
mortal. The sniff against my shirt
and your hand wrapped in my hair
like when you had milk breath.
I wonder if the man of steel
alone in his fortress of solitude
wished for his mother the way
you did when the sky failed
to hold you suspened disbelief
gravity your arch enemy?
All I know is that I was not there
to catch you and all I can do
is hold you and pray you are
more careful as I always prayed
he would be too.

Three

If there were signs and omens,
I missed them.
The particular disasters of my life
came without falling stars
or prophets.
There were prayers whispered
tin tangled against God's ear
through soup cans to distort them
so much so, that love became live
and that at least I did.
But this life is not the city
on the hill or even hell beneath
New Orleans, no it is a gradual
movement of nothing to nothingness.
Once I dreamed of miracles
white stave blooming and fallen
kings, but now I simply say
there are three parts of a soul
the one you hold, the one he holds,
and the one that you would give away
if you thought they might with
gentle words take it.
No, there were no burning trees or
red seas; no blood upon doors.
I have wandered waiting for you
to call me Lazarus from this tomb.