Traitor

He is. Sin and redemption . Shame and pride. Torment and peace. Empty and overflowing in both anguish and strength, but not joy never joy.  Because for every fleeting moment that elusive creature is within his grasp , guilt always wounds,lashes,whips and tears. But he moves forward you see, tethered to  guilt  and shackled to rage, he soldiers on. He knows no other way than this.   He walks by my side as I prattle about what he missed while he was gone, or rather when he was lost. He keeps silent but this is expected. I hold his hand feeling the rope burns  as he grasps my hand firmly, And so we walked , our steps rhythmic and leisurely towards everything he shunned and everyone he has rightfully or wrongfully abhorred. He braves the crowd with their scrutinizing eyes and sharp tongues . Lies and truths mixing in the air as they murmur to each other as he passes by. For a moment, anger courses through me. I wanted nothing but to snarl and hurl every insult there is.  But logic prevailed and I held my breath, settling  for looking straight into their eyes instead. As if the mere act, will bore into their malicious skulls  that I feel no shame walking beside this boy. This broken boy turned into a lost  man over night  by a bloody circumstance. Their hushed tones speak volumes of contempt , twisted truths and false wisdom.  I am not surprised that I am being judged as well  , questioning my actions as though it is their birthright to do so. Destruction and betrayal they deem his future to be. Loneliness and hurt they expect mine to have. They see his claws , I see his scars. They feel only his anger, I feel his heart, tired and mangled. But I do not blame them , they are victims as well . In that crowded street,  we all are.  We walked seemingly without a care in the world . still, he holds my hand and for all the plainness that gesture brings, it means the moon and the world to me.