Saturday, August 19, 2017

To What Was And Is To Come

Open Window

Once I watched a door close
When she walked away
But I was long gone
Before I heard it
And there was nothing
And nowhere to go
Looking for an open window
To come along.

Pictures are my memory
I dream in vivid colors
Watching the wind blow
Through a forest
Leaves whisper her name
As I linger
Not knowing what to say
Looking for an open window.

Everything changes
No matter how we try
To remain the people
We put upon a pedestal
But we never become them
Pounding upon closed doorways
Till our fists bleed
Wounded soldiers in a game.

Noone to blame for
All the missed chances
To restore a pathway
Of a closed door
So I cling to a picture
Knowing my memories
Will hold still
Vision of an open window.

Will she reappear
Before I leave this life behind
Only time will tell
As the tide arrives
To erase difficult days
When I was blind to truth
Denying her spirit
A warm place to stay.

In my heart
There is an open window
Sunlight becomes her
To the hillside I climb
Clinging to a doorway
That will never open again
So I pray for salvation
In another's arms.

Neverland is just a place
Boys never grow old
But this world deals in reality
Something I ran from so often
Denying possibility
To make changes
For our sake
And so that door went unopened.

Don't you forget me
Even when you dream
The way it use to be
We had our moments
We brought life
To a gruesome world
We opened a window
No man can close.

Oh give me one more day
It's not the number
But the quality
Propels me forward
Closing doors give way
To open windows
And God knows
I'll be waiting anxiously.

When I come closer
Don't deny me
A way to find you
Over the phone
Close a chapter
Open a window
If only for a moment
And let me stay a while

D.A. Wittler 17’

Saturday, August 5, 2017

Mentor From The Grave

I, who slipped into this title of poet,
Long to be liberated from the world
Free to rage within the realm of my own wit,
To intervene, and
To transform the world..

Taken from, and inspired by: Sir Phillip Sidney
(1554-1586) Courtier to Queen Elizabeth I. Knight, warrior, horseman, and self described poet. Though he lived a brief life, he knew the gentility of nobility, the brutality of war, and the subtlety of poetry. A hero Knight of the highest order of chivalry, and literature. Wow, if I believed in reincarnation like the late great George S. Patton, there I would be! But I would never choose to die of gangrene from wounds sustained in battle, who would? Ah, but a quick sword to the heart is more the order of my life. A loner, son of a foundry worker, signal soldier; smitten by love, a father, leader, and lonely once more. And so I digress into the shadows of my later years, dismissed, but never out of the fight.
God bless

Friday, August 4, 2017

From My Father's House

For all of us who have issues with life, and I think that pretty much covers all human beings on the planet, a little perspective:
For many centuries, perhaps even from the dawn of human creation, men, and women alike have held on to the things that have shaped them as individuals. Good, and bad go hand in hand as much comes from parents, guardians, or homes of record. Character makes up a lot of who we are, and like it or not we experience things that add to , or detract from that image of ourselves. Often we look to our fathers for guidance as we grow from childhood to adulthood, and as the case may be, we may not always get what we bargained for.
I for one may not have received the love, and affection of my father like I may have needed at various points in time in my life, but it doesn't mean I have to dwell on the loss, or lack of, rather, that I took what I could get, and ran with it. I don't have to let resentment for this lacking get me so downhearted that I cannot function when life stresses me to the extreme. I don't have to run for cover every time I am reminded of the bad things that have occurred in my life.

God knows from the very beginning that human resentment goes all the way to the top. In fact, I think it was figured into our DNA that at some point we look to a father figure to blame for our shortcomings, and or flaws in character. All I can say in this regard is this; make peace with it any way you can. Seek wise counsel of a trusted friend, or professional, pray for guidance, and above all, take the time while it is at hand to go to your father, and speak from your heart whatever it is that is keeping you from becoming the ideal image of yourself. I can't tell you how much turmoil there has been in my own life because of resentment, anger, and hurt over feelings towards my own father, but I had to pass through some pretty awful waters to get to where I am today to be able to share my experience with you. I hope that in your own way that you find a means to make peace with the past so you can become the best version of yourself that God intended. So, sit back, take a few deep breaths, pick up the phone, send a text, say a prayer, or even speak to an empty chair if it helps resolve the pain in your heart. May God bless you, and keep you firmly in His care!

Thursday, August 3, 2017

Who's Afraid?

Who's Afraid Of The Dark?

Dale A. Wittler

We are all born out of the darkness of our mother’s womb. Like some self contained spacecraft, it was our first real home. It gave us nourishment through a tube like embilical, provided warmth, and protection from a hostile exterior environment. We grew inside it until there was no more room to expand our horizons, and so we were expelled into a harsh light so blinding, and cold that it caused us to cry with our first drawing breath. And so, out of that life giving bath of darkness, we became beings immersed in light. We soon forgot how welcoming it had been to just keep our eyes closed, and experience life through the muffled sounds of an alien world mere milimeters away on the outside. In fact, as time passed, we began to fear what we once knew as a life sustaining darkness, and transformed it into a nightmarish place noone wants to explore again… So, tell me, how did we learn to fear the dark?
I wake in a cool sweat, my heart pounding like a freight train; throat bone dry, and lungs drawing huge gasps of air like I had been swimming under water for an extended time, and distance. There is a fading sense of impending doom leaving my body, and my mind begins to resume a normal pace of a typical afternoon. This is fast becoming a new norm for a person who has known the drone of third shift life after most folks turn in for a long nights rest. It is curious indeed, and a mystery only many years of experience can reveal as a genuine sleep disorder.
I remember as a kid coming home from elementary school, and my brothers, and sisters gathering in front of the television set to watch Dark Shadows. As if Barnabus Collins wasn't enough to scare the bezeesus out of you, there was nothing like having to use the bathroom during a commercial break, and needing to make the long trek down the hallway to relieve oneself. Yes, I mention this because that's when my fear of the dark made itself truly known to me, and the time we made our own haunted house in the basement. I will never forget my oldest sister, and the “white hand” glowing in the dark under the staircase.
Funny how sleep can be taken for granted in a world constantly at war with itself. I remember sitting behind a small green box lit up with ivory colored subscriber lights, and the slight hum of a power supply fan motor during field training exercises in Germany. There isn't much to do when you're a ninteen year old private first class manning a telephone switchboard after the generals have called it a day. Even after a change of scenery puts him on an air base somewhere the hell in Honduras, it's still the same game, a Cold War existence.Years don't change a man except when he has been up for nearly thirty six hours straight, and a National Guard captain keeps wondering why his switchboard operator keeps dosing off, even while standing up on both feet. Believe me, there is nothing more surreal than waking up half way to the floor when your body says“ Give me a break, will ya?”
So, what does this have to do with the inevitabiliy of growing old, and the fear knowing life ends in darkness just like it began? Well, again, experience is the best teacher. Over countless hours carrying a flashlight around a kind of half way house for wayward boys, I learned to embrace darkness as a means of security. As long as the kids were in bed, I didn't have to worry if one of them began to act up, and a fight would break out. I never liked sitting on top of a thirteen year old who was having an episode of “I can't deal with the reality that life stinks, and I can't cope effectively with my anger issues.” Yeah, I was one of those crazy individuals, who when backed into a corner, was forced to handle the conflict I always tried to avoid at all cost. To this day I hate dealing with the fueding frenzy this world has become so addicted to.
And so, this journey continues. After twenty years of marriage, divorce, child support, and living in exile for nearly five years, I find myself in a mid-life life crisis of epic proportions. Health Care is all the rage as I have entered a guantlet of repeated doctor visits, blood work, and issues related to that dreaded walk to the bathroom. Funny how it all comes back to you in spades. And thusly I return to a new kind of fear, the reality of knowing a lifetime of dreams, both good, and bad, are cut short by a broken mechanism inside my brain that keeps turning the light on, and off at random. After a ten hour shift at work the night before, I have been asleep, and awake at least three times since 8 am Eastern Standard Time. Almost as funny as “The Clapper” I live a commercial in my head that isn't the convenience of a modern labor saving device. I realize that it's not the blood sugar, blood pressure, or cholesterol that will kill me, it's the darkness, and comfort of a warm place to sleep that will inevitably end it. So I blame economics, the health care industrial complex, and my own broken brain as a means to deal with the fear only God in heaven knows how to heal.

The End Is Near

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

By The Title Of The Same Name

Who Am I?

Always take what I "say" with a grain of salt, but don't ever take for granted what I write from the depths of my heart, and the beauty of my soul. If you should pass this way again, you will know the purest form, and the best version of who I am.
So, who am I?
I don't know normal.
Sure, I look that way on the outside,
But noone knows the turmoil inside,
Or the beauty hidden there beneath;
I am real!

Know me as a friend
A one time lover
Always a fighter
Deep within
A soul searcher
A God driven man
Full of flaws,
And imperfections
Like a diamond
Once a lump of coal
Now a glittering example
Of what pressure can create
And heaven sent
To find purpose
In a world of hate
A hell of man's own making.
This is who I am.

D.A. Wittler 17’

Sunday, July 30, 2017

Choices And Challenges

How many times have I chosen
The easier path
Because the mountain peak
Seemed too distant
Beyond my reach
Or saught a clear view ahead
From the lower branches
Of a tree
Because the climb
Seemed too steep
Beyond my sight to see?
Ah, but today
I am graced to face again
Those same challenges
But I have gained faith
Through past mistake
To make it far beyond
For heaven's sake.
D.A. Wittler 17'

Thursday, July 27, 2017

"Can You Hear Me Now?"

For those who doubt
For those who despair
For those who can't let go
Of the hurt inside...

Wherever I Go

It's the middle of the afternoon
I was up all night
Just had to check my phone
And there you were
“Thought I'd mention,
I'm a friend.”
That was an hour ago
And here I go again.

Wherever I go
Doesn't matter where
I can always find you
In my life
Worst day
Or finest hour
Fair weather friend
My Savior
Because even in the storm
You only see the calm
When my soul rages
That you even care...
You are there.

It's the midnight hour
Night has just begun
Working for a livin
Just barely somehow
I think I've lost my reason
To keep on going
And there you are
“Thought I'd mention,
I love you.”
Then my heart begins again
Morning rises
With a mist and sunlit horizon.

Wherever I go
Doesn't matter where
I can always find you
In my life
Worst day
Or finest hour
Fair weather friend
My Savior
Because even in the storm
You only see the calm
When my soul rages
That you even care...
You are there…

Wherever I go
Wherever I go
Wherever I go
I can find you
Know you

D.A. Wittler 17’