Conflict

Most people like a little conflict
enough to keep them interested in their own life
things like a flat tire
are not the details of great theater
but the question to answer,
"Are you the victim or hero in your story?"

I’ve heard it said that the stories you tell
predict the kind of person you become.
If you are only the frustrated victim of other people’s actions
and looking for offense at the slightest provocation
always upset that life doesn’t treat you right
then you have every reason to cry.

Stories that are better to tell are the ones
where you are the victor in your battles
you outsmarted the aggressor and overcame
the offender or at least out ran him
acquiring fame and fortune, adoration and respect
rising to the position of leadership,
one whose words have power,
who can be counted on to solve problems,
one who thinks clearly and acts accordingly.

With all heroes you must be careful not to exaggerate
the situation or the solution, you don’t want to become
the person with the gun who tries to take control by force
leaving destruction in you wake
or to become a dictator with unbending rules
or an isolationist who withdraws from society
content in your own fantasies of make-believe.

A Politician’s Victory

I remember in my senior year of high school
a blond kid, named Conrad,

stood behind the podium and said,

“Vote for me.”

This was in contrast to Cathy, who was the popular one
who promised to articulate with the administration

to bring student concerns up for discussion

she would interface on our behalf and blah, blah, blah.

Steve approached the podium next

handsome and so sublime
he talked about change and how if elected
would make sure our every wish came true.

Speeches went on for a week
two of the candidates had so much to say
and Conrad, in his ill-fitting suit

brought the house down
with his three words,

“Vote for me.”

The freshman class was the largest one

all marked their ballots early
sophomores did the same

and between the two gave a majority
to the candidate who made them laugh
his message simple and to the point.

When all the votes were counted, Cathy came in last.
Steve was second and by default the Vice-President
while Conrad came out the winner of the greatest victory ever
with a simple, direct request…

“Vote for me.”

The memory was evoked when I got word that
Conrad died in hospice last week and Steve
underwent surgery to remove a cancerous tumor.
Cathy hasn't been heard from since she was thirty.
Promise of youth all gone too quickly. R.I.P.

It Is A Mystery

When I was young and asked the nuns

how many angles could dance on the end of a pin
they tried to explain that time and space
have no meaning when describing how god works

that it is a divine mystery

and to accept the answer, however
complex, because we are only human

and cannot know the unknowable.
It is part of our faith.

I became passive, not getting too curious

or asking too many questions

releasing all authority to the almighty

or those who represented him on earth
but in time their lies became too much to bear
their human failings too great a burden to forgive

I want answers to my questions

and I want to know.

Rice Road

Bill and I were traveling cross country
from Florida to California wanted to see
our folks and show off the grandkids.

Traveling in our green
Ford Econo van with windows all around
stopping at different points along the trip
to get pictures of the countryside.

We saw a small road sign
with Rice Road printed in bold letters
posted by a narrow two lane gravel road
winding up the mountainside.

Without a thought of caution
made a quick left turn
hugging the rock on the right
giving plenty of room for traffic
to pass on the other side.

Saw a viewpoint to get pictures
made a quick left turn
pulling off the road
when a large lumber truck
came thundering down the hill
consuming most of the space.

We would have been killed
had we not pulled off
then without a word we
returned to the main highway.

Finally able to speak
we talked about how fate stepped in
and saved us that day
on Rice Road in someplace USA.

Trees

Silent sentinels centuries old

witnesses to what is going on around

watching history pass without a sound

recording details with rings on a stump

revealing all when their lives are cut short.

Doubt

It forms like a seed in the back of your mind
trust brushed aside when your head fills with doubt
and like any illness left untreated
infects all parts of the body

sight becomes red with rage
muscles tighten ready for battle
after awhile clenched fists ache
shoulders and neck become stiff

waiting for the inevitable fight still ahead
better to fill your psych with happy thoughts
rather than recite a litany of misdeeds
compiled as evidence to convince yourself

your doubt has substance
and worthy of your attention
ask direct questions to get to the truth
rather than to wallow in the morass

which can take on its own reality
convincing yourself your doubts are true
it doesn't end well for either party
get to the truth before the day is through.

Life 101

Mother wanted priests and nuns
from her brood of five girls and five boys
she did her duty by having so many

thought her obedience
should bless her with at least
one in the religious life

or at least an organ player to sit
in the balcony to play hymns for
mass, weddings, and funerals

but all her dreams and wishes
were scattered on the floor
when Life 101 came crashing through the door

she learned blessings came
but by their own accord
suffering was plenty

but she shouldn’t focus on it
what she wanted and what she got
were too far apart for

religion to make sense
but she believed anyway
slivers of sunshine stuffed in a book

raising her eyes
to the heavens above
with a big hearty, “Amen.”