The Man Away From Home

It was another Saturday evening, stifling and warm
and a cold, impersonal street light
lit up my weekly sight

A young man leaned against the wall of a phone booth, waiting for a familiar voice
although dressed shabbily, his clothes were clean
his face was gaunt, body painfully lean

A man thrown into hard labor,
to ease the burden of a loan
his family ,with much hope and sorrow, shipped him away from home

The mother answers, she gives a cry of joy
she asks him if he is keeping his health and for how long he hasn’t called ?
he asks her about her weak knees, about everyone else, her question stalled

The coarse hands, laced with thick veins, gently placed the phone in it’s cradle
he looked at the heavens above and his eyes shone
for strength had been given, for the desolate days ahead, to the Man away from home.