Two Tales and a Gift

If life could begin again, I'd write a different poem

One that would continue the story of a boy

who grew up to be a man, to live a life a world apart

from another tale which I am about to tell

The birth of a son is a joyful time,

as family and friends gather around

The weight of responsibility is heavy

upon their hearts and minds

Shrouded in innocence,

the vulnerability of an infant soul

This is the age at which impressions

determines the direction a boy will go

With hopes of success and happiness,

his rearing carefully planned

Responsible parents watched with knowing eyes,

their child's well being an insistent demand

Love is the foundation upon which all else grows,

trust which is learned in time

From knowing the comfort of being held,

the caress of a gentle hand,

affirmations softly spoken affirming again and again

the self worth of this boy growing up a young man

Taught to know right from wrong

by a father's firm yet calm convictions

Learning of the depths of compassion

shown by the gentleness of a mother

A young man, well instructed,

his future is forever set in stone

Grown, educated, and now moved away,

free to become all of that which he was shown

Soon after they met, fell in love,

came together, and then in time,

she too joyfully bore to him a son

As family and friends once again gathered around,

this legacy was handed down

What I would give if this were the life

I had been given the chance to live

On a different side of town another son was born

to an immature boy and a girl way too young

Alcohol, drugs, poverty accepted,

no legacy to follow, having parents just like them

As for the rearing of this child, they didn't care

Inconvenient, scorned, unwanted, not loved,

a mistake that should have never happened

Words which wounded, that cut deep into the soul,

abused and neglected, innocence shattered

Made to feel unworthy, self esteem laid low,

trust an impossibility, a child set adrift and alone

Two lost souls, their morals in shambles,

set in stone the direction

for which this boy’s life would follow

Anger the only emotion felt,

a runaway whose stomach is hollow

A child eats from a garbage can

while pundits preach that our societies are hollowed

Like those before,

drugs and alcohol the necessary reprieves

The only way to drown the sorrow,

to fix this habit theft was the only means

A teenager doing what had to be done living off the streets

A judge and jury then weighed in,

life in prison, a young man is locked away

No one cared, no help was offered, a life that didn't matter

Harassment, fist fights, knife wounds, bleeding

no peace, a lost soul, forsaken, weeping

From behind these walls the anger turned to hate

Yet it was here, in this cold dark place,

from within the confines of isolation

an imagination was conceived

of day dreams written in a journal

envisioning how life could be

Then came the day the man was let go,

no family, no friends, no place to call home

To the streets once more to roam

Hungry, no pride left, eating from a garbage can

to satisfy the hunger once again

Comforted by the warmth of liquor,

knowing only sorrow, crying remorseful tears

No hope of reprieve,

a handful of pills, gun to the head, car driven off a cliff

Begging the universe to bring to an end

this wretched existence

given no other choice but to live

Why death evades escapes reason,

these legions of demons

screaming in the night tormenting my mind,

where is the silence, peace I cannot find

Needing a friend, someone to talk to,

strength to lean on when weak,

though never to find what I seek

Psychologists, group therapy,

conversations with book learned idealists

though admirable, offer nothing

For they cannot not comprehend

the depths of despair where I’ve been

No, life isn’t fair yet life is a choice so choose with care

All these years later a life more than half lived,

the time has come to use a gift I’ve been given

Art created in the form of words which are written,

an imagination, creative, vividly real,

to be read or spoken with the intent to provoke emotion

Never could I have ever foreseen this as my fate,

that with pencil and paper life could begin again a clean slate

Through all of life’s experiences this I’ve come to believe

No longer bound to low self esteem,

a mind set free from the shackles of the past,

there’s nothing desired that cannot be achieved

So to that someone, somewhere out there,

barely clinging to hope and to a dream

What others have said or done really does not matter,

you are the person you see yourself to be

So get up once more and take a look in the mirror,

for staring back is all the help you will ever need