OPUS Mag

Far from timid • Caveat Lector

My Ghetto Boy

My Ghetto Boy

May I tell you the story?

Of ghetto boy, my ghetto boy

Of how I was drifting

When I found him and now

In every cycle, in every war

I will stand beside

I will go before, my ghetto boy

I kept my head down

Existed in the shadows until

The energy was low and I was forced to manifest in

My highest form to war against the demonic on behalf of my tribe

I moved in silence, calculated and intentional in both

Exploit and emotion

Until one day whilst in the midst of realigning my voice with my inner rhythm

After what had been one of my greatest battle seasons

I heard a whisper as I floated in the next realm and I

Meant to drift into another cycle but it was too late

The inner girl went rushing towards what she heard, curious

She had to know from where the whisper came

And she found him there, laughing

Though it ceased when they met eyes

They had been looking for each other for quite some time

She reached out her hand and he

Immediately began to sink back

She took a step forward

And he pressed himself into his guard

But she was relentless

She closed the space between them

Pressed her forehead to his

Placed her hands on his chest

He stopped breathing for a moment

So she gave him her breath

And he rested

May I tell you the story?

Of ghetto boy, my ghetto boy

Of how I was drifting

When he found me and now

In every cycle, in every war

I will stand beside

I will go before, my ghetto boy

He had known adoration

But he knew nothing of sacrifice

And the little girl was determined to teach him

That magic, real magic

Exists in and out of love, in and out of night

She showed him that she understood

The world was cold

Taught him that her wrath was colder

And he no longer had to be afraid because

She would be with him, moving forward

When he was ready, she held his hand

Introduced him to the gods

His eyes widened when he realized

She was god of all, queen of kings, healer, guide of lost

He tried to pull away

But her grip was too tight

She led him to her throne

Told him to sit, at her right

Placed her hand on his thigh, leaned in

Kissed his temple

Looked out at the souls she’d trapped

Each of them, trembled

He looked up at her and wondered why

She looked down at him

And whispered

I am yours; you are mine

And he rested

May I tell you the story?

Of ghetto boy, my ghetto boy

Of how I was drifting

When I found him and now

In every cycle, in every war

I will stand beside

I will go before, my ghetto boy

She stood guard

Watched as he ruled

He had never witnessed the celestial

He had never seen what roots could do

She called on the ancestors

Made sure they saw him through

His enemies disappeared, as they communed

He came to embody the universe

Her spirit became his

As he sought to keep her magic

She sought to manifest his

They ran like children

Through lust into love and

Back again

He fought less

She loved more

And if ever one stopped breathing

The other readied for war

And so, they rested

May I tell you the story?

Of ghetto boy, my ghetto boy

Of how I was drifting

When I found him and now

In every cycle, in every war

I will stand beside

I will go before, my ghetto boy

It was me.

It was you.

An empath, a god

& a ghetto boy

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