May 18, 2013
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The Crucible
Something is wrong
There was a time when past was present
It isn’t that way anymore
He doesn’t understand what is happening to him
Why this day is not today and yesterday is tomorrow
Something is wrong
Something is playing with his mind
Maybe it’s something he ate
But he can’t remember what he had for breakfast this morning
Maybe he skipped breakfast
And the dishes in the drain-board are from last night
He doesn’t know these people who just knocked on his door
He thinks he’s seen them before but isn’t sure
They hug and kiss him and ask how he’s doing
How well he looks
But the little babies they're holding look at him funny
And one of them starts crying when they ask him to hold it
It’s your fourth great-grandson they tell him
He doesn’t know what the hell they’re talking about
And he’s afraid he might drop it and hurt it
It’s so heavy
He wishes they would all go away
He doesn’t want them here
They’re making too much noise
He wants them to leave him alone
Leave him alone
Comments (7)
Thank you for this Peter.
@Oneday_9 - Thank you back Curt... I know you probably use one or more in your work... In my 87th year small amounts of brain matter are being deposited and cooked away and it is a devious and sneaky process that has befallen those of us who've had the audacity to live too long... My wife's "crucibling" unfortunately has progressed to the point where it's like dealing with a five year-old... And the poor fellow down the hall and a kind gentle friend is the sad embodiment for these heartless lines... It's just not fair...
Peter I'm just happy we are speaking to one another thru this cosmos. I'm thinking of you dear friend. My grandmother was lost to me for close to 15 years. As if her former self so functional and doting on her bushy blonde haired grandson, seems like a work of fiction. A hologram for only my eyes to see. You are on your journey. You've had the chance to seen all of this for such a long time. I hope that even I can utter such frustrations with the cruel nature of passing life. It isn't fair we cannot see what is to be or what once was. I feel this in my belly like thorns piercing my rib cage. My fathers passing who lived to 58 has me fumbling and stumbling trying to make it to 59 and have the same collections of thoughts and works that possibly can be discovered hundreds of years into the future like King Thus remains. Hopefully our ruminations are being read right now. The universal communication to those who very well may be immortal. You are the phantom mentor pushing me forth on my life raft into the hurricane swelling right before my eyes. Eternity and beyond. I still will speak to you.
Peter I want to send you one of my art pieces. Message me your address and info if you would like. Maybe an exchange with you?
Kurt, I am overwhelmed at your response... I will have my daughter find a piece to send to you... She has a lot of my sketches stacked in her cellar... I have to go in for some surgery tomorrow to remove some skin cancer and will get back to you in a couple of days... Blessings on you and yours... By the way, who the hell is King Thus... I googled him and got more confused...
An astounding and powerful piece of writing, sir; of all the writers whom I will miss most when they shut this site down, you will be the one I think of most often. Bless you sir, for all the joy and happiness you brought me when you've commented on my work. I hope one day I'll read you again on someother shoreline.
Haha Peter I think I meant King Tut! Awesome that would be great. Email me at curt.Allday@gmail.com! That would be amazing. I really want to make this happen. Sorry for the late reply! Its been a long couple weeks!
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