Maceo in the woods moving, powered legs striding, inhaling earth sounds, birds singing, the dancing clickity clack of branches, the leaves whisper their mingling.
The angel, now just Angel, nearby watching, invisible to Maceo, but watching. Thinking, You go my son – I am Daddy here watching your churning movement. Have at it, my boy. You’re breaking free, breaking free. One powered stride at a time. In time, in time.
Maceo breaking a hill thinking, Rockabye Baby, bye-bye. Where were you flying on the wings of your myth? Your dying breath lives in your words only, killing quick those who love you. Rockabye Baby, bye-bye.
Angel nodding, invisible still, the son’s heart-powered legs driving him up hill now, relentless, tenacious, sweat pouring, comfort coming. Angel thinking, Keep going, my son. You’re on your way. Smiling now, his son’s chin lifting, his fierce chocolate dark eyes burning their own trails.
Maceo remembering the dishonest dance, out loud saying, Your wet inner thighs, powerful shit in your world, when you don’t have much else. One trick pony, riding the back of your fantasy.
Angel, now seen, waiting at the crest of the hill. The son seeing his father. Maceo blurting, Dad!, then to stillness, embrace, tears. Angel saying, All is well, my son. All is well. You can let go now – and forgive all their all – and keep on loving.