seventeen years younger and as carefree as you can be that tricycle rolls around date street over all of his fathers worries how he smiled when he saw that tricycle how he smiled when i saw that tricycle how his heart melted over his bipolar soul when his seed learned to ride that tricycle bicycle how he smiled and his smile grew wider as he ran behind that bicycle holding the seat of that bicycle while his seed screamed dont let go of me and my bicycle how his chemicals got the best of him when he finally let go and his dependant son learned to ride on his own how his seed pedaled further and further down the street and he watched and he would have like to believe that his eyes beamed with pride but they beamed with sadness and those wheels kept on spinning past need and dependency i picture i picture my father healthy healthy sitting next to my mother behind a closed bedroom door where i cant see and he stares down at his hands and he buries his face in them and hes wondering where the time goes where the end of four years left him without a bike to hold on to while his boy rides the red and silver memory down the street wondering where his gift of a bike that he cant hold on to anymore will take his boy i hear his chemicals rip apart at that feeling of being wanted that he kept close to his heart and he cant take his eyes off of his cracked fingers that his seed doesnt need to steady the seat anymore because his boy can do it on his own i wanted to tell the tale as detailed as the demons did with those four white walls as their canvas well my fathers father was a failure and his mother loved her lover more than she loved her sons my father is nearing the end of a good fight that hes fought since the beginning a far better man than the one he feared he might become glendora will always be the place his brain fragmented and china will always be the place that he felt whole beijing will be the place the devil tried to fight it and my mother will always be the keeper of his soul well i just want them to grow old together to sit on the front porch of their home together to laugh about how my sister was the far more responsible child to reminisce of how much weve grown youve still got to marry me and my wife and youve still got to walk your daughter down the isle and give her to a man that you trust enough to take care of your little girl youve got to see the smile on her face when she sees the smile on moms face when she sees the smile on your face as you give away your world were all riding our tricycles bicycles through these streets and were all gradually letting go i know it doesnt make it any easier but you are not the failure that your parents were and id have never learned to ride on my own well how frail are these bodies we blossom like a flower and then whither in the winter and like a passing shadow we quickly disappear if i hold my head high you hunt me like a lion and even if i try i cant feel you when you say that youre near my days fly faster than the weavers shuttle and they end without hope you my lucky man have been privileged to joy and cope in the same suffering your savior claims he knows and who are you to challenge your creator surely resentment destroys the fool and have you ever commanded the morning into daylights transition into evenings cool all i know is that were all houses that someone crafted for a reason some of our paint is chipping and we weather with the seasons but all of us branches are prone to decay so was it an honorable man or a cruel hand that made us this way i am a house that creaks and groans and all of my bones shake ive got a cornerstone that i call my own but i stumble on it every day and the one that makes me a home the builders rejected and threw away on some days i am tempted to follow suit and uproot my faith you built up your identity as a failure gave ear to demons legions screaming some father you are some husband some friend some pastor some man some lover some christian some brother some son some change that you turned out to be in the end just look at the work of your hands i wanted to paint the picture as detailed as the devil did with those four white walls as his canvas but i finally believe that god is going to heal my dad and it took a long long time to get here but ive heard rumors of rest for the heavy laden and you do not have a savior unable to sympathize with your weaknesses there are liars inside your mind that you lay claim to control your life and there are monsters inside your heart that have dug in their talons and become a part of you but there is mercy every morning and to the burdened there is rest and that promise overwhelms the deepest bouts of doubt and consciousness all i want is for joy to replace to the pain inside those irises and all my dad wants is to ride his bike again the one with the basket on the back that i sat in as a kid and wed ride by the fire stations and the firemen would blare the sirens for me from their fire trucks and i would know what it was to trust and practice faith like a child do you remember what it is to become as a child i know youre ready to go home but if you could withstand the tests of time oh job will sing out in the choir that we are the blink of an eye pleading there is rest and this is not who you are the way the light is not characterized by shadow the dark or the depth of his scars saying oh my pain is significant but it did not make me savior in resurrection you are made in the image and likeness of your creator be joy and may it be for the glory of the lord because god if there is a point to this i dont see it anymore but i believe in sovereignty in something bigger than you and me and history and the way these generational curses seem to rip apart at the seams of our family oh my god be rest where is the rest 