The Boy in the Stiff Boots

/ Daniel Swearingen


“I beg you take courage; the brave soul can mend even disaster.” — Catherine the Great

Being on the spectrum, is like walking in a stiff pair of boots. Your feet hurt, and you have no flexibility. Yet you can see above the heads of others because you stand taller. And that is where we both begin and end…

Upon a recent night I hear him say. “Oh Babylon, how your walls have fallen, how you have destroyed me, how these stiff boots cannot my feet contain.” And since I wonder at such his words, I move closer, for there is a haunting of the spirit, that preludes, the creation of G_D’s sweet grace. And such further I hear him phrase. “I am broken by your name, blessed be, my only shame, fill me with your flame. For it is I have seen such terrible things, my mind plays in such a grotesque game.”

He is born with stiff boots, a strength that is built on hurt, justified, by what the world has done to him, what he thinks G_D has done to him, what life has done to him, and yes what I have done to him. And he has become unconquerable, and strong, building a daemon so angry it possesses his given name. His beautiful name. And he stands so stiff and tall in his stiff boots. He curses the stars above Babylon because they never make him whole. He never fills full.

Please help the boy in the stiff boots is my claim, on the altar in your name. Bending low, patterns drawn in your image I say. Day after day, night after night let your sweet essence enter his human cage.

And how these many days I pray, and how I will bless your unmitigated names. She-ma Yisrael, Adonai eloheinu, Adonai echad, each night I claim.

She comes in the mystery of a falling rain, and before he is born, she fills his soul. She comes in a desert place before I even know his name and claims the payment for his change. And in the city of the dead, G_D comes to claim that which I even did not know. And while he screams, and the Mediterranean rolls, this lord, this Adonai comes and makes his eyes glow. The earth opens and takes his pain, in a holy flame. My baby boy, his eyes like mine, a hazel grain.

And how these many days I pray, and how I will bless your unmitigated names. She-ma Yisrael, Adonai eloheinu, Adonai echad, each night I claim.

She comes in my stiff boots of memory, in the archetype of my soul. She is all unto me, the mix that makes me whole. And just like he is unto me, every cell that makes a family sensory, we share the same. In your name. Oh, how I come to you, in your mystery, I thank you, while this world wanes. I know my son’s story, how you built him in all your glory before the world was named. And like him you made me, stiff boots made of chemistry, that which fills our brain. In that we walk from day to day. In that we walk from day to day. And that is where we both begin and end… – 06.17.2022 – דָּנִיֵּאל

 

92 thoughts on “The Boy in the Stiff Boots”

  30. Many “boot” thoughts come to mind.
    Yes, there is even a stiff boots in the tales.
    Yet, Daniel, it is my thigh high boots that remain. They are in my closest, years unworn have made them crispy, not quite stiff. There is nothing to draw in any image or name.
    It’s just my youth, waned.

    Liked by 1 person

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