When I was younger
I thought that their foundations
We’re built on stories
And held up by redemption
Of items deemed too far gone
And situations too heavy to bare
And then there was a point where
I found out that I wasn’t wrong
-
I visited one once
If only to see what was there
To walk between rows of items
Now homeless due to circumstance
Staring in a trance at the
Walls made for their confinement
Until their consignment can be agreed on
But not without their scars
Marring the memories of their owners
But still standing tall with promises
-
Much like a guitar who believes that it has strummed its last note
If it wrote its story out
You would hear of
The dream of stages that
Rages in its players minds eye
And I’m not sure what happened
But from what I can see this dream
Did not go nearly as planned
It seems as though it’s a song screamed on deaf ears
With no one to hear the heart
That drove the soul to
Teach the tongue to sing these
Songs in the first place
Until all three were lost along the
Rows of the shop that I’m standing in
Underneath the clearance bins
And locked behind the counter
Counting the dollars that this dream is worth
To an outsider who wasn’t there for
The inception of the stars
That shone in our guitar players eye
And now I see the remains of it here
-
Next to the glass cases that encases
Broken marriages
And the tears that fell with them
Of families in need of reconciliation
Who come through these doors
Looking for closure in a situation
Their hearts for them in
While their mouths close the deal
To seal this chapter
Leaving the promise to become
Another fairytale in need of an ending
Before they forgot what loves was
In all of its compromise
Without being comprised in
The hope that windows sills will
No longer rattle with thundering voices
And hearts will not shatter
With the promises made on the alter
Before altering its meaning
Leaving this ring with the others
-
And still some will come here searching
Bringing nothing but enough baggage
To make Southwest Airlines cringe
And revise their policy that allows us
To carry enough baggage for two people
She will paint emotion on her face enough
To sell herself the lie that she is ok
All the while cutting away
The feeling in the meantime
She will promise you that she’s fine
But she lies
She carries her heart on her sleeve so
At least she can see you break it
To look you in the eye
And tell you that she’ll save
Her crying for the night
Where despair can take hold
And nobody will know
-
But she still comes here looking
Not for any high that a smoke could bring
Because she knows that the stinging
It’ll leave in her throat will remain
And it’s not that she likes the depression
It’s just that she doesn’t know anywhere else where she can stay
So she stays
And pays to rent out her soul
While pleading to be made whole again
By the promise that a pawn shop can
Give her meaning
Because of what she’s seeing
What is he seeing?
Pawn shops are weird places
Because whenever I think about them
my mind races to the hearts I hear
Breaking
The scars I see aching
But I never think about the
Hope that I see remaining here
For every ring in every case in every shop
There is a young man hoping between them looking for one just right for his future wife
To promise his life to
I hear
The sound of a song being echoed through
An instrument being used as a tool to mend a relationship
Because even though it is high strung
That guitar can still sing
And bring the sight of people together
Knitting brothers together
bringing the wayward home
Many will come here searching
With very little to give
But here there is a promise for answers
Here there is the promise of hope
And healing
Because everything has a place
All accepting
And a home
-
So come here searching
Bring a heart yearning for more
And trade in your scars for
The expectation of healing
-
Now that I’m older
I know that
Pawn shops are the places where
Redemption has lived all along
And lord,
I’m so thankful that I’m not wrong
