Sunday Morning Reflection

It is no longer early morning, yet the house still sleeps.I rise to sounds of rain on a canopy and insects emerging from the deep woods.The cawing of black birds joins a Sunday morning chorus of nature's mass beneath a late summer cathedral of leaves overhead. My soul laments past sin, my mind a constant buzz of everyday occurrence while close by a gentle whisper of breath brings back a simpler time. When did I begin to get old? Only in gray strained threads upon my head and lines forming at my brow reveal the trials and years of life to date accumulated. But still I revel in morning dew like a child I once knew perhaps not so long ago.

Nobody

Who reads blogs anymore? Apparently nobody!

Today started like any other with the exception that it is my mom's birthday. I got up just as the sun was rising, dressed and grabbed the usual breakfast of apples and a banana which I ate in the car on the way to work. As I drove eastward, I noticed the color of the sky and noted how beautiful the sunrises have been all summer this year. I plugged my smart phone into the car stereo and opend the pandora app which quickly brought the sweet sound of contemporary christian music to my ears. It was good to just listen for a change and absorb the rhythm of praise combine with a glorious sunrise.The morning dew had been wiped away by an old memory as each passing car emerged from a dark grey horizon and faded into past light...and then I remembered that I was a nobody headed toward an unimpotant job seeking nothing but an audience.

Midnight Thunder

Like my life, just another work in progress...

Riding that lonesome road
Weary from my daily journey
Wore out from my worldly woes
The sun began to set before me
and storm clouds began to show.

Rain drops and wind conspiring
I saw god-light shining through
and tear drops fell on shame
as distant memories returned
from a life I hardly knew
On dark nights working unawares
of trouble just ahead.

Then comes midnight thunder rolling
foretelling of heaven's coming
horsemen and trumpets blaring
Sent me into a blank stare
Ears ringing with despair.

Nearing my final destination
Cleansed now as I exclaimed:
“God help me save my soul,
as the nighttime is rising
and I know not where I go.”

Midnight thunder
My delight
Seeking shelter
in morning light
Facing a soulful hunger
when I was so much younger,
finding nothing but anger.
Seeing hope just out of reach
knowing “I'm sorry” does not keep
the soul from wondering far from home
on a lonesome highway in the darkness;
thunder tolling.
Good night.

A Penny for Your Prayers

Last night I took to prayin'
to the man upstairs.
Life has been so trying
without you here
I just don't care.
But then I believe
Life is worth livin',
so pull up a chair son
and listen.
A penny for your prayers.

Leave a little copper by the granite
and say it proper,
cause life is short,
so be a show stopper,
cause the man upstairs
He really cares.

Leave a little histry'
in your rear view mirror.
Give it up it's no longer here.
Forgive, forget
and you just might feel,
someday we heal.

So leave a little copper
by the granite son
and say a little prayer,
I might be gone,
but it's never solong.
Never regret
to sing your song.
Forgive, forget
and you just might feel,
someday we heal.

Life is a lonely trail.
Never give up,
though you may fail
and leave a little copper
beside the granite son
and say it proper,
cause life is short,
together we heal.

The Human Brand

This past week presented a flurry of thought on several subjects of interest to me. It all started with a vivid dream that has been a reoccurring theme that I like to call: My Life in Boots. For many years my time in the military has come back in colorful and distinct images. I don't know why other than when I admit it to myself it was the best “job” I ever had. Those years gave me a sense of being an integral part of something bigger than myself. There were days when all I had to do was plug in a few wires, dial a few numbers and be connected to the world in voice. Today, however, I feel lost in the everyday doldrums of the world of work as a drone in the machine of production, production, production; that appears to be the only important thing to employers now. They hide behind concepts like efficiency, cost reduction and customer satisfaction. I don't know about most folks, but I think it is all some kind of doublespeak for legalized slavery. For me, it is about something much more than that, it is about the human brand.

Silently suffering, over the years, we come to understand as children that we are not as loved in the world as we are within the confines of our parent's care. We emerge from our mother's womb into bright light, loud noises and cold realities of room temperature, smacks on the buttocks and incubators to get our lungs to function and our skin to pink up. And as the clock begins to tick off precious moments of a predestined mortal existence, many of us begin to look beyond ourselves to unworldly mysteries such that faith and spirituality provide. Sunday services, weekday masses and morning prayer must suffice to give us a deeper meaning to the harshness of reality in order for us to function without question to the demands of human progress. In the mean time our own private hell unfolds as relationships develop, heat up in a passionate fire and fade into dissolution and discontent as our notions of preconceived perfection begin to nudge us with the blemishes of humanity. And finally, we end up as trinkets in a yard sale or on the floor of some bargain store at a discount price. This is what the human brand has become; a commodity to be bought and sold rather than cherished and cared for like the priceless treasure our creator intended.

In short; clinging to the bootlaces of my soldier past and disillusioned present, I find little hope for mankind in this subtitled “modern age.” Life has become a series of survival exercises like yoga poses where we try to go beyond the limits of our physical selves, where conformance lies at the bottom of a barrel of rotten apples passed down from the fall of Adam and Eve. But there is hope lying out there in
some non-genetically altered farm field where the human brand becomes the intended dream of our mythic god, whatever we choose to call him or her. And so I leave a taste of hope and a hint of smoke
as only a poet can do.

Forever isn't as long
as we had hoped it would be,
but it goes down as well
as a fine glass of wine;
Sometimes.

Let tongues of fire speak for me,
let smoke rise as my soul embraces heaven,
let warmth envelope my cold and restless heart
as it searches.

If I Have To Ask

This is a rough draft of something that just ocurred to me. Call it therapy or a coping mechanism, I had to share it with you. Thanks for listening.

If I have to ask
What's wrong with you?
It's way too late
The damage done.

The day is long
Years gone by
You're weary now
My heart's not in it any more.

If I have to ask
What's wrong with you?
It's way too late
The damage done.

Love estranged
Strangers living side by side
In the same room
You said goodbye
Now this sad song.

If I have to ask
What's wrong with you?
It's way too late
The damage done.

Night has come
My bed is cold
I hear no breathing
But my own
Good night my love
Sweet dreams of freedom
Unchained.

And if I have to ask
What's wrong with you?
It's way too late
It could never last
Me being me
You being somebody else
I once knew
The end
My friend.

Among a Growing Sunset

What can I say, poetry is the best form of therapy ever inspired by God through nature and given to man. Read on then... Amen



I miss you here tonight
Among a growing sunset
Where stars and silence overcome
and crackling camp fires consume
cares of daily life.

I miss our conversation
About every manner of thing
To hear your voice
Take in your smile
Knowing in my heart they will suffice
no matter crisis festering within
our minds and souls.

You have your life
And I mine
We are weaker for it
than a time once no more.

But in spite of all
God still calls me
into peaceful recesses of prayer
Where there is hope and joy;
A place promised for forevermore
Among a growing sunset.

- D. Wittler 2014