We Don’t Always Get Up

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??? – Politics as Usual

Born my son

of youth,

My pride

shadowed you,

Our long talks

 sitting under the stars,

Your wisdom

learning astounding.

You followed me,

To the sky,

Your letters,

 soothed ego,

 in uniform you came,

healthy and strong.

Randomness comes, without

warning,

Often Chaos follows, tragedy

forms,

Every rising sun, in it may

hide,

Limping up my path,

Gunshot one leg,

You a ghost decimated by

meth,

My heart bled, my love

insane,

weak, sick, meths demon chained,

Drug withdrawal, horror for all,

Detoxing , then rehab came,

Daily classes, groups and

counseling,

Fell on meths ears and a mind

so distant,

A likewise cursed wife, two little girls came,

Wasn’t long Meth summoned you

back,

she had a grimy fist grasping

your soul,

 girls gone, family a Spector of the haze,

Abandoning goodness, for

Satans crumbs,

As we watched you implode,  

only love remained,

Your Wife descended down,

and little daughters, had a

new mother,

You reached for a rope, many times,

But the demons inside could

not hold,

Our pain ebbed and flowed,

The tidal shift’s,

drifted all out to sea, but love,

Soon the rising waters,  highest of hopes,

All was well, no horizon

darkness,,

I prayed, cried, maybe sooner

should I,

Randomness and Chaos checked our faith,

We each fell like dominos,

sheep off a cliff,

No hope, no faith, nor love I

could taste,

My heart was stone, heavy and

throbbing,

My son of youth, I can no longer shadow you,

I could only place you in a velvet

box, hidden,

Yet Chaos and Randomness, the

true gods of man,

 is a two edged sword….something can come

from naught,

I weep,

By James Kirk-Wiggins (c) January 2020, All rights reserved

This Poem is a work of fiction, any resemblance to any person living or deceased is coincidental.

Note: Many humans suffer from similar pain, defeat, and tragedy. It doesn’t reflect on a family member or the individual. For this reason alone we should be involved, show empathy, and support, for those whom evil or random chaos has cast her dark shadow or the whirlwind chaos holds fast the soul. Most every religion promotes or speaks on compassion and love. We often feel an affinity for others, if this grows and strengthens Humanity will evolve. Love.

Jim Wiggins (c) January 2020

A Christmas Poem

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Prologue:

Our journeys, if fortunate are long, we may redeem the past many times. Our history isn’t us. Just learn and let it go. We are the present, with new attitudes, personalities, temperaments, emotions and so much more than we were at any past epoch.

The characters and events do not represent any persons living or deceased.  It’s easy to see yourself in a story written by a friend or family member. We often feel the minister is preaching to us. Writers only have so much personal experience, they must pilfer your moments, while they eavesdrop.

 

PART 1

In a time, past, was Christmas eve,

A tense quietness spread throughout the house,

No one wanted attention not to dare even a mouse,

Dad snoring on the couch, didn’t see our mother leave,

 

 

Dad came home two hours late,

Said, “he was drinking at the club with Casey and his son,

He left early, a little before eight,

What the hell he bellowed, I work hard just a little fun,”

 

 

Mother said the boys wanted to open just one present,

Dad stared , “every year the same, “NO”,

“We open them Christmas morning, all Santa had sent,”

Mother also was drinking, and said, “Why the hell no, and NO.”

 

 

Dad walked to the tree looking at the presents in disgust,

Mother said why are you always like this,

“Open all of them” he shrieked, “IF YOU MUST!”

Then he kicked and broke every toy, not even one did he miss,

 

 

The night before Christmas it was very quiet in our house,

Nothing was stirring, not even a mouse.

 

 

PART 2

The two boys’ clothes were tattered,

Yes, their hair was long, had Nana brought a toy?

Grandma would fuss, but it hadn’t mattered,

Their smiling dirty faces shinned Christmas joy,  

 

 

Early the boy walked the cold wood floor,

To the living room, lighting the old ceramic heater,

From the one bedroom the others poured out the door,

Warming hand and feet at their only heater,  

 

 

Money was short dad said,

Gas went off at night,

The boys saw only the gifts instead,

And the shinning Christmas light,  

 

They played with the few new toys,

Having fun, the two boys,

Dad ask one for some water to drink,

The boy ran quickly to the kitchen sink,  

 

 

His head swooned, what had this meant,

He gasped at what he eyed,

Back to his brother he went,

Pulling his shirt to show what he spied,  

 

 

Two beautiful red bikes sat on the floor,

They turned around and dad leaned against the door,

Merry Christmas he said, I sold my car,

but will ride the truck instead.

 

EPILOG: These two stories have much to teach us beyond the obvious. You see the two boys in both stories were the same boys, just older as was the father. It reveals to us the enormous change possible in who we are and how others, including our families may perceive us. Often family and friends still view us as our past, a sad indictment on love and evolving life.  This story reflects the resilience in children. Love does cover a multitude of sin, in us all.

Written by James Kirk-Wiggins (c) 2019, All Rights Reserved

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