Downtown Chicago, a moonless night and the young man walked with a limp; it wasn’t his legs that caused it, but a psychological illness which someone manifested itself as a limp. Four years clean and counting, each day a war, each moment a battle.
Old friends tossed away like the cigarettes smoked outside of another meeting, confessions of weaknesses all around. Is a weakness still a weakness when it’s a physical ailment? A disease which has caused the body to yearn for more, more, more.
Church basements, public school gymnasiums and solitary confinement in a crowd of friends, family and strangers. The need to run, the need to feel the rush, the need to calm the feelings of…what? Pain. Undefined pain – if only a spoken word…understanding of what was calling, pricking, pinching, piercing the soul of a man, walking with a limp…
If only the rain had not fallen that night when the moon was hiding behind the clouds. The dark alleyways were left on their own although surrounded by the raindrops which tried but could not clear the dirt from the eyes of the fallen man, walking with a limp through the park in downtown Chicago in the rain, on a moonless night, a man surrounded yet forever alone.
Some have faith in a Power larger than we can ever imagine; believe that there is a better place for us somewhere…
We believe that our limps are taken away and the clouds never appear on a night, when the moon is full and the light sprays down comfort upon the ones who once were surrounded by a sense of isolation from the world. A place where love is the answer to everything and everyone is able to walk without a limp, when the moon is obstructed by the memories and the demons we all posses. We are able to walk proud into the arms of the ones we love, accepting the love given, unconditionally.
But tonight, there is a child walking through the streets, walking with a limp that is psychologically inflicted, he is searching…
If only…
 
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