Diving in the Stream

The following poem is an experiment using stream of consciousness, emotion and reality. Often, I am confronted with situations that confound me or stir feelings that I don't know how to deal with. I try so hard to give the semblance of control in my life, but I have none. I just can't seem to let go and realize I am going nowhere on my own initiative. The only conclusion to draw from is that God knows where we are going and we must do our best to ride the waves as best we can until we reach the other shore. One hint: I work at a nursing home. And so, here goes...

Where did my thoughts go?

Caught between the walls of asylum and old age;

angered by the senseless monotony of it all.


Where does their patience come from?

Wiping up the remnants of incontinence;

saddened by the tragedy and cruelty of life.


What chain of events has led to this cross-road?

Tears, laughter and apathy confound;

hopeful that God must have a hand in this reasoning.


How do I continue on this journey?

Traveling without a map or clear course of action;

anxious for subtle signs of roses and mere coincidence.


Who will provide answers within?

Searching for meaning beside a faithful companion;

loving more dearly than ever before.


11/17/11

October Rose

It came quite by surprise

A single solitary rose

One October day

Fledgling bud

Orphaned

From the growth of thorns

To blossom splendidly fragrant

Through autumn frost

Surviving incorrupt

Reminding

The love of God prevails

In spite of weather

Wind or rain

To emerge

Undaunted

Teaching us all a lesson

To have faith unceasing

Despite hard times

Frantic troubles

Abiding

In something higher than ourselves

Beyond our feeble understanding

In greater things

To ponder

Love.

- D. Wittler 11/4/11



The story behind this poem and photo is real. Times have been tough for me and my family these past weeks. Like many folks we have felt the affects of a down economy and the loss of income. A week or so ago my wife prayed for a sign of hope, and low and behold a rose started to bloom on our rose bush. A single pink rose! In eleven years we have never had a blossom appear this late in the year; and only one!
It has stood several frosty mornings and is still in tact. I went outside tonight and took a picture. It became the inspiration for the poem. God Bless and hope for all.
Keep the faith!

Journal of a Middle Child

Day: 17956

To whom it may concern;

Isn’t it great to know that one seemingly negative thing that you have done can erase all of the positives you have created; that all of the smiles you have shown are wiped away with just one frown? It is the story of my life…

I am sick to death of the game; it is without purpose and it is not fun. It must be the invention of some cruel being that shall remain hidden behind the guise of evil till the end of all we know is upon us and he shall be revealed. What will we see; perhaps ourselves or some once beautiful face corrupted by want, desire and every other form of vile repugnant quest to feed our inner child. From whence does this darkness come?

Some have pondered the origins of the soul; others the nature of man in relation to the natural forces all around him. Still, others have merely existed to feed and work and sleep according to the mandates of a time clock and punch card. What then remains on the final day when labor ceases and one faces the inevitable arm chair and bed pan of old age? He then becomes the work of others who are slaves to the same task master. What a cruel world when all one sees is despair played out like a merry-go-round; it cycles like the moon in phase and rushes shoreward and back in some lunar phenomena. How I pity the stars fixed in an enormous vacuum of space destined to glow and die over countless millennia; their only legacy is but a memory seen from a light year’s distance from earth and beyond. Must I go on? It has been twenty four hours and the tide of energy has turned again to find me here alone once more. It feels like a numbing cold within my brain as I press the keys one finger at a time.

Torn in All Directions

Sorry for the late post my friends, I have not been myself of late and I grow more tired by the month. I'm just not sure if I can keep this up. I am not happy with this short cut style of on-line education that I have taken on through Grand Canyon University. No guarantees that a degree in English literature will bear fruit, but at least I acknowledged the gift God gave me and maybe that is all  I needed to come to terms with in my life. I can say I am wanting to exit gracefully into that good night. If only it were that easy. The best and worst are yet to come, this I know for sure. And so my offering to the writing ghosts that haunt my soul tonight.... may they rest in peace until tomorrow.


Tonight finds this weary soul pushed to the brink of writing by caffeine. My life, so full yet is lacking. What does this mean? Like some impoverished monk I work and serve the causes of family life and the future of boys, all at the peril and sacrifice of the love of my life. When did things get so complicated? I am drowning in the fight to stay afloat and the desire to change the hearts and minds of those so conditioned to single mindedness. Why can’t they see the view from the mountain top like I envision in my heart’s desires? They choose to ignore or by force of habit look straight through me as if I never existed. Am I a renaissance man in modern times or just a soul prepared for the next great leap of faith? I would gladly welcome death today if at once I could take in the entire lineage of my faith and past lives. How I long for that mansion of many rooms in which my heavenly father resides. But alas, I have trails to trod, rivers to bridge and sons to raise, papers to write and some uncertain future to face. What great triumphs, challenges, trials and tribulations wait? Lord only knows my fate. Good night.