Best Friend


You asked me
“Where are you?” and
“Where do you live at?”
I don’t like to lie,
So of course,
I went around the question.
“I live over the mountains,
By the ocean, 14 hours away.”
“Do you live in a lighthouse?”
“You can say that, there’s
A bright light and a tower.”

All of your questions are valid
And I will always listen.
You’re my nephew and now,
My best friend.

I see my younger self
In your questions
I would ask your grandma
“Where’s my dad?”
“He’s in the sky.”
“Does he fly airplanes?”
“No son, he’s with God,
he’s watching over you.”

Death and prison,
Two things children can’t comprehend
Like teaching them calculus.
The only thing they understand
Is presence, or lack thereof.

The temptation is
To make me your hero
But time will only bring
Like no one showing up to your game.
The grand image,
Evolves into something realistic.
My “lighthouse,” a prison,
My lessons, examples I never followed
The cape becomes
State blues,
The mask falls and
I’m just a criminal.

But for now,
I’m your best friend,
Your sounding board,
Your cheerleader,
Someone to trust
Someone you talk to
About building things and
Your joy in running,
And whatever else.

“Sy”, if you’re going to build,
Become a master of foundations,
So that you’ll build
As high as you wish
Continue training for stamina
So that life’s race
Will never wear you down.
And know, your best friend
Is here always.

Leave a Comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

The poets featured here are currently incarcerated, and many of them are in federal prisons far from home. Your feedback is a valuable source of motivation and connection to the outside community. Post your comments, feedback, and encouragement in the space below the poem. Messages will be passed on directly to the author. Comments may not appear immediately on the site, as our team processes them to mail to the poets.