I rarely cry
but I cried on the way home in the car, staring out the window and seeing nothing but my own tears

The first time I met him I was nervous
but there was no reason to worry
he looked like a big, cuddly teddy bear
smiling cheeks, flippant hands, his hair long in the front, short in the back, and sticking out at odd angles

Every week he would be so happy, and tell us of his life
attempted suicide, witchcraft, social workers, unrequited love

Every week we saw him, without fail, open up his arms and be so happy, radiating love like a space heater

Then one week he didn't come
and the next, his hair was cut short and his smile was gone
and he stayed quiet, just sat there, as if his love had drained away through the floorboards

He told us he loved us,
that we were the only happiness in his life.
There every week for an hour, then gone
just to wait for the next week

Now he says he's given up
the depression has won.

But we're the only ones there for him
we are holding the vine he's clinging to
stuck in that quicksand that we've all felt

But sometimes you just need to let go of the vine, right?
No.

I've been stuck like that and I've won
I've been stuck like that and I never lost sight of the vine

We are there for him, we are the vine

But we only see him once a week
and in that one hour
He can laugh and hug and radiate love
but then what?

attempted suicide, witchcraft, social workers, unrequited love

Please let him love again
please let him live again
please let him go
because I've never seen more love than lives in the eyes of that child
he really is just a child