On My Mind

a car sailing down a country road,
a son and daughter, hair whipping
radio blasting, engine willing
they’re happy, they’re smiling
she’s screaming out the lyrics,
he’s just smiling.

then a thought,
an image,
an idea,
a face they’ve never seen,
that haunts them everyday.

and they wonder,
and they think;
oh, if he were here?
what fun we’d have,

sadness creeps up,
yet hope is always there–
they’re gonna try,
he’s gonna try,

he’ll try to find us, right?
why can’t we find him?
when is family “classified”?
…and they slowly drive on

I’ve got this image in my mind

a kid on a bike,
blond hair gleaming,
he’s riding somewhere–anywhere,
enjoying a hot summer day,
hoping everybody comes to swim.

then a thought,
an image,
an idea,
faces he’s never seen,
that haunt him everyday.

and he thinks,
what are they like–
would they go swimming?
oh what fun we’d have.

he’s gonna try,
when he’s older,
he’s gonna try.
he can take the fight;
he’s gotta know.

I’ve got this image in my mind

a guy in an Irish pub,
knocking back the Guiness
laughing with friends,
speaking German,
smoking Lucky Strikes,
thinking
“man this is so fun
a dream come true.”
then a thought,
an image,
an idea,
faces he’s never seen,
that haunt him everyday.

and the voices fade,
he orders a whiskey,
and he won’t stop till
everything else does–
till blackness devours all

stumbles through a crisp
German evening,
looks up at the stars,
and wonders what the ****
it’s all about.

man, if they were here,
we’d have so much fun
and he’s drunk and bitter,
his thoughts are awry,
and he drinks some more

but he’s got an image on his mind:

a man in a small town,
wondering why he hasn’t been found
a woman in a small town,
bitter she hasn’t met her brother
they sit over coffee,
they talk and share,
they wish and hope and pray
but only the wind blows.

I’ve got an image on my mind:

a young man, stumbling,
a cold breeze on his cheek,
he’s crying,
he’s hurting,
he’d give this all up
to see them,
to meet them,
just once to be whole again.

I’ve got an image on my mind:

the son and daughter,
moving through life,
existing as best they can–
always wondering what–
why?

They’ve got an image on their minds:

a phantom face out there,
driving down highways,
searching towns and dreams,
a flashlight in his hand,
illuminating only walls and
“classified” signs.

And he’s got an image on his mind:

he’s going to find,
he’ll break through–
the smallest sliver is all he needs.
he’s dumped the booze,
the smoke,
he’s fighting through the drivel;
he’s asking questions,
he’s found something–
he’s running with it

And He’s got an image on His mind:

a man and his wife,
speeding across a highway,
towards his destiny.

a son and daughter,
waiting with baited breath,
the door’s open, arms ready.

the man walks in,
embraces the daughter,
the son

..and the three joined at last.

And His image is complete.

© 2002 Martin Gibbs