Sabbatical

There comes a time
when a man has to walk away,
when the call to retreat
rings louder than the call to stay.
 
He knew some would miss
his presence, but to him
his presence didn’t matter
but something far greater did;
 
preservation.
 
He had spent too many times
staring into the mirror and
not liking what he saw.
There was doubt in his eyes
 
and worry on his face,
reflections that he knew
he hadn’t shared with others
and to be honest, he knew he

couldn’t share
 
for he was surrounded by a mass of
blind eyes and deaf ears, people
who had branded him as a
“happy-go-lucky” type that seemed
 
to have nothing bother him.  But
he was not happy.  He was hurting
and so he had to leave everyone behind
so he could figure things out, try to answer
 
questions,
 
questions that haunted his nightly dreams
and kept him awake most nights,
questions that poked and prodded during the day,
making him lose focus on the daily tasks at hand.
 
So he hid in the darkest caverns of his mind,
places where the absence of light and humanity
were welcoming sights, where no one could find out
the emotional roller he had to ride so he could

find himself.
 
Laughing and crying, screaming and pacing,
even muttering to himself all the things that
did and did not make sense.  It became
a continual exercise that
 
he hated and embraced altogether, something
that brought him closer to finding out
who he was, where he stood, and where
he may have to go next.  He finally felt
 
relief.