Friday, November 15, 2013

Road To Redemption


If a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound?
And, accordingly, can a life be redeemed
If you divorce yourself from the forces that  thrive,
On opening old wounds?

Having spent a lifetime contemplating old sins,
Can one finally declare "enough!" 
And live for today and tomorrow
And say I am done with reliving ancient nightmares?

Can one life be redeemed and any kindnesses extended
Be met with the purity of motive?
Or must we bear a cross of guilt, a crown of thorns
And peace comes only in the grave?

When the vindictive brew is prepared by others
Who must destroy your peace to achieve theirs
Can one find a peaceful harbor
To lay by until the storm has passed?

When all the sincere "mea culpas"
Have been offered and accepted or rejected
How much longer must one pay for a past
In a world where one no longer dwells?

Can one then sail once more on calm and peaceful waters
And wake each day with a freshening wind in our face
Or must we wear the mask of "ogre"
Assigned to us by others long ago?

Having, regrettably, baptized myself in fire and pain
At this age, can I finally immerse myself in cool and healing waters
Can I finally deny those who would adorn me forever in mourning clothes
Or have I, at last, earned the right to redemption?

1 comment:

  1. See, I am hunting for you now! Another blog, that's great! There is clearly a lot to you.
    You do not have to accept the pain others would bestow upon you, take the monkey suit off! I like the poem even though it is full of pain. Care to go back in time, maybe a 4th blog? and tell me about Vietnam? I was screwing college girls while you were protecting me! My brother was there, all secret hush crap and he won't tell me anything. I mean nothing at all, like a year to forget. I have other friends who went and they still have nightmares! Now we have veterans coming home (to no jobs and homelessness!) from other wars. They too will be messed up. How can we help them if we don't hear their stories? It is a lot to ask of our young people and then we abandon them upon arriving home. Pretty creepy. Make someone write a poem full of pain. I am off to your 3rd blog! It is a great day or what!