No More Dark Define

Here is the poem I mentioned in my last post (it's titled the title of this post):

Once ago, once ago
I flew the Himalayas, and watched
the sun streak over them in rising
I have been to championships,
I have met the humble and the chastising
I have toured in a taxi with a terrorist,
held my baby teeth within my fist,
I have an adopted little Indian brother,
I have cussed at my own mother,
I have worn two pythons around my neck
and felt like an idiot writing my first check,
I have broken my nose four times,
and gone on adventures,
just to adventure
sometimes;
I have seen a man shake in utter fear,
I’ve stubbed a toe and wiped a tear;
I’ve declared to a girl that I’d be with her to the end—
I’ve won a heart,
I’ve lost a friend;
I found a dead jellyfish on the shore
and got lost in a grocery store;
I rode an elephant once,
I’ve built a scarecrow and had it lit,
I’ve even gone to watch a concert,
and ended up playing in it.
I’ve known famous people
and prayed beneath a dozen steeples;
I’ve seen a Nepali woman furious at exercise yoga,
and been complimented by a Buddhist monk,
I’ve spoken Latin and learned how to say “toga” (…it’s… “toga”… in Latin)
I’ve run from a skunk!
I’ve seen my best friend fall off the proverbial cliff,
I’ve hung with people I’d call loose
and been called “stiff”
I’ve beaten an analogy to a pulp
and I drank that glass of orange juice in one gulp
I’ve been handcuffed,
and tasted my own medicine
I’ve seen all sorts o’ stuff,
I’ve been caught in sin,
I’ve been choked on a school bus,
accidentally wiped whiteout on a teacher’s shirt,
I’ve collected rocks, chased snakes and frogs
and aimlessly dug holes in dirt
I’ve been afraid of dogs
I’ve sat on a sunken dock, and in the rain!
to watch the drops, like pepper, play upon the lake—
I like to be called crazy—
I think it keeps me sane
And all in 19 years
of vanilla birthday cake!
Why, I hope to live four times as long!
But now we’re shifting gears….

Back then…

Then
I was a little boy
and Life
was sandbox Tonka Toys
Dreams were commonplace—
As was the mud on my baby-fat face.
And, like some little boys
I had a dad—
I’d beam when he praised me,
and cringe
when he was mad.
Through a long and drawn-out lesson
I’d learn to discern
between good and bad
In scoldings, time-outs,
spankings and shouts.
This is my upbringing, like many others.

Like many others,
Then
I was a teenager
Arrogant and unsure
I was both Superman and the loser
I was king and I was victim.
There were moments, sure,
When I was void of all delight,
But like every fledgling artist,
I had my time in limelight
Like many others.
____PART 2_____
Like many others,
Now
I’m a young adult—
Still I often feel unqualified for the job,
Or as if I’d joined a cult
But always I tend toward thinking
That I know more than I actually do,
We are so young, college students!
But we assume we’re heroes yet unsung.
We have LaRouche, we have Conservative,
Musician, Engineer
Nerd and Homie-G;
You name it and it’s here!
We have the prideful and afraid,
Theologians and Agnostics,
the bums and the well-paid,
But what’s the difference if tomorrow,
We’re the same as yesterday?
I fear
That we’ll let life get away
Being caught between
Friends and enemies
Between those who uphold me
And those who scold me to my knees;
We have the broken and the breaking, shaken and shaking,
lust-slaking,
peace-making,
truth-taking,
friend-forsaking,
cause-for-headache-ing
thought-baking
We have the
moral-teaching
love-leeching,
shirt-bleaching,
short-armed and far-reaching,
humbly beseeching,
Sports-loving
push-comes-to-shove-ing
innocent-as-dove-ing
Dawg-piling
endless-smiling,
by-fire-trialing
relationship-reconciling,
Propaganda-bellowing,
way-showing,
temper-mellowing,
face-glowing,
Class-rocking and nerd-mocking,
the stunning and the shocking,
hatchet-burying and gun-cocking
open-door and window-locking,
Joyless,
hopeless,
faceless,
heartless,
Joyful, hopeful,
a face full of laughter
and a heart full of depth
Here is the secret long best-kept:
I am not invincible—I never was!
Yet I make my choices and when asked for reason
I answer firmly “Just because!”
“I have rights!” I cry, but do I? Do I?
Was I not born? Will I not still die?
I am not a sadist, masochist, nor emo
But “ashes to ashes, dust to dust”—I’d like to know
real life,
I’d like to know
Why the scalding heat of summer always cycles into snow
Why we have those feel-good movies, and then their credits t’ end the show
Why we have sweet songs, and then their resolution chord,
Why there is an end to prince and pauper, both the lowly and the lord,
Why we have love and our beloved is soon lost,
Why we have gain and glory—but always with a cost
Why everywhere there’s white it’s not quite white
but a mere and imperfect reflection of the truly bright white
Why everywhere there’s light it’s always lessened by the shadows
And, most of all—
the silencer of tongues!
the stiller of our strife!
the sobering truth
that one day ends this life!—
Why we die although we grow
To grow and still die

Not quite the happiest thoughts,
No I know they are not
But flip them around,
they take on a better sound
that the freezing winter is always followed by the spring,
that the end of sweet songs means a new lyric to sing
that the poor are justified to meet the same fate
as the rich—the small as the great
that love is never a regret, for somehow it goes on,
that the cost of greatness is never one for which we long
that somehow, by not seeing white, we seek like ne’er before,
and that, though dark descend, we are promised light in one day more.

Do not close my childish eyes, as you have closed your own!
I will not be a mimic, sycophant, nor clone!
I will see the light, and not be scared to shine.
I will, too, see the dark, and bring to it the light.
We deny, defraud, defer,
But Truth’s always coming closer,
Let it not be fear that breeds
When I say Truth’s all you need
Let it not be a shaking hand that’s close
When I say the end is close at hand
Let it be only comfort, consolation
that Truth will be there on that day
that takes you from me away
I will feel it and remorse
But Truth will meet you at the finish line
When there is no Blemished White, no Dark Define,
We’ll have brothers, sisters, mothers, uncles, aunts and friends
On this my soul depends
And like back in that sandbox, playset swing
There’ll be no thinking too much, there’ll be no thing
but trust, between you and your Father
Truth will meet you there.
This life is like music.
It’s beautiful.
But it ends.
I know Truth, and I know Life;
He’ll be there at the end.
On Him my soul depends.
__________________

Now I want to write about the "I've seen my best friend fall off the proverbial cliff"...

His name is Ryan. Ryan David Robertson.
We went to the same elementary school in Redmond, WA, and we lived about a mile apart. Hung out a lot when we were littl'uns, both sort of "not in the cool crowd", if you will. For some reason I can't explain, I tried really hard to be a good friend to Ryan. In seventh grade, he became more and more distant. We would hang out, but for the next two or so years he became less of a good friend to me. My dad mentioned something about it, and asked me why I was such a good friend to him. I just remember saying "I don't know"...

It must have been the grace of God.

In those two years of hanging out, we did crazy things, like burning a scarecrow and homemade napalm, and making those terrible 3-AM movies that are only funny when you make them--Attack of the Office Tools was our crowning achievement. We threw hairspray cans in a fire--Ryan was a pretty intense pyro--and had our blackbelt Karate friend knock us out in turn with a sleeper-hold. I had no idea then that all this was a method of escape for Ryan.

All the problems bubbling beneath Ryan's flamboyant, secure outer shell came to light before me in an instant. I remember hearing that Ryan's parents, Rob and Linda, had him forcibly sent to a Christian rehab in Montana. It was September. I was shocked. I called him my best friend at that point in my life. I had no idea why he would need to go to a Christian rehab. I'd always loved his parents, though, so I trusted their decision implicity. I had no idea where I got such trust.

This will be all for now, and marks the embarkation of a long and painful--yet also joyful--story. The posts may be sporadic thanks to my lovely fractal mind. Sorry.

Valete amici