A Story Untold, Pt. 1

Once upon a time has been used, perhaps, in this setting, just once, too many times. No, this will not be a happily ever-after fantasy. I’ll save for those poor souls who need it more that journey. Quite instead, I think we’ll begin ours a bit, differently this time ’round. You see, I’ve never been one to be able to sit and write quite so easily; finishing a story in its entirety, but rather, offer extreme glimpses over the whole of a lifetime. Mayhaps this time shall be different, I hope.

Oh, I don’t recall so easily how, or even why I ended up sitting down at that moment, but it was crucial that I did. More so, that I begin writing down my thoughts as they quickly, almost quietly slipped past my conscious. These words needed to be writ before it was too late to capture them. See here now, that once the thought has occurred in such a manner, nay shall it be allowed to do so the same again. And shouldn’t that be the point of it all? To have the stroke of genius strike but only once to a man? No, I didn’t think so either, least before sitting down that night.

Sadness is a human affliction, or so we’ve been lead to believe. Rather differently I believe, it is an affliction of life. One that spans all creatures, regardless if they have higher functions or not. Though there are different levels of sadness, to be felt by each, at different times, and with different intensities, there are some to whom, rather unfortunately, must deal with great shades of pain and sadness, all within a single lifetime of living. Then there are those poor souls, who must deal with it all in extremely short spans of time. Some turn to dull the pains brought, others are driven made by it. While some, much like myself, abuse it in order to bring new life from it. We don’t control it, but we also don’t let it control ourselves. We simply respect it, learn from it, and every now and then, ride the waves as they come crashing.

See here, this writer’s heart, mind, and soul have all been through levels of hell unfathomable to others. But yet here it wrote this, still kicking, fighting, dying. It’s oft been writ before, and to be so again, of the pain and suffering that we’ve journeyed through together. It’s been broken, abused, and used more times than care to recall. It’s also known immense joys within incredible sorrows. Yet all three continue to press forwards. There are times, oh there are many times, when it all comes swelling once more within. A few stray tears will fall, and the room heavy, will grow. But the journey still continues to carry forth from depths once unknown.

That Old Soul

He travels all year both near and far
Travels alone like most to a bar
Constantly moving and shifting

He’s left many lives behind
Some broken, some shattered
As he’s crossed that line
Some say too many times

He’s a long forgotten soul
Left out beneath the cold
As he tries so very hard
To cling to this old world

In life and love
Screams from above
All hope was nearly shattered

That old soul kept moving on
Took his fair share of killing hits
He kept pushing to be strong
For one day he knew it’d be gone

The life he lived, love he lost
Still carried deep within him
As he looks back past all those years
Wonders how he’s still here

Could’ve been anything
Chose instead to just be him
Wasting all his wishes on them

Family man became his plan
To watch them grow, raise ’em right
Sit besides his caring wife
In his mind heart and soul
This was his heaven

He watched them grow up too fast
Needed his lap less and less
As they faced their worlds
With all the courage he instilled

You raised them right, raised us proud
Turned every fear away from doubt
Showed us just what a man should be

A loving father, loving husband
To a caring mother and his wife
They did the best they could
To make sure we had everything

And the years still roll
Days still they pass
Since it was you shared your last
But it’s still nice to know

You raised an old soul properly
Instilled all those lessons inside me
How treat a woman like your wife
How to hug my daughter ’till she’s alright

Words were rarely ever spoken
But through the actions of my old man
He taught me how to be that man

Five years later since the day he past
I still have those precious qualities
Treat my daughter precious as she is
Pick her up when down, hug away her frowns
Treat a woman right not playing around
Make her the only one, that special day

I know someday it’ll all come true
I’ll have a family looking up to me
Kids wondering what their daddy can do
With a loving wife by my side during trying times

He was my only example, I his last wish
Don’t make the same mistakes now son
And you’ll pull on through

Five years down the road
My little girl looks up at me
I can see in her eye the same feeling
Of when I used to look in his eyes

I’ve got broken family
Searching for the right woman
Discouraged and on my knees
What more could he want from me

I’ve kept to the promises made
Never once running away
Always sticking to the fight
That needs to be fought

And as I look back on the years
It’s plain to see what completes me

A warm loving wife with kids all around
With her in my arms stretched on the couch
That’s the picture he painted inside me
The two most cherished instilled by him

One day I’ll get it right
Have the woman of my dreams as a wife
With kids all around in our home
Screaming for me, screaming for her

That’s the life I was raised to live
This old soul has years to go
But memories still remain before he grew old
He’s the man I want to be towards my family

wallpaper-2909394

Beware The Irish Lass

‘Neath the meadows glistening moons
Lay such sweet innocence
Giggles growling miles around
Whilst springs flow swiftly passing by

Flapping wings heard o’er moors
With mischief carried all around
Childhood dreams of wishes past
All coming true this soft night

The wind does blow gentle breeze
Swirls of leaves and hair abide
And o’er the hill she does come
The Irish Lass he did dream

Her hair flows softly with the wind
Carried quickly thou with haste
Into his arms he’d did pray
She soonly fall for his brave heart

O’ last but not she could not stay
Her song was sung by the day
And off she went where she did come
O’er the hills of Slieve Gullion

To his feet stumble did he
As he chased to catch with her
No sooner had he reached its peak
The sun had crest with full delight

Back he sought each night to stay
To catch a glimpse of her fine face
Alas his heart had given up
On ever seeing his lass again

For on he went to live his way
With dreams of her still come nae go
His wife don’t mind she knows the tale
How he lost his way at Slieve Gullion

Years they passed and kids did grow
Grands all ask him of that day
Of how he met the enchanted fae
And how it was she could not stay

Tales and stories for kids to play
WIth magical fairies far away
Until the night they came away
To hear the scream of deaths last day

Dying wish was to see the fae
For one last time on his dying day
With family gather all around
Supporting him as he’d done they

With the sky clear as bright as May
Stars shown lit all they say
And on this night like long before
She came over the hills of Slieve Gullion

A tear to his eye he did find
As her warmth she did embrace
With the family gathered of this man
A promise she did grant

That on this night as has before
He’ll return with her once more
To visit with those still pure
Hold magic within themselves
For its the only way to open the door

And on that night they went away
Back over the hills of Slieve Gullion
As one child ran to ask to stay
The sun shown bright ‘cross the moors
With a whispering in the wind
Asking him to remember his kin

The years have passed family spread
But the pure heart of child visits him
Share tales all night ’till dusk again
‘Neath the shadows of Slieve Gullion

misty-hills-greg-martin_0

Them Blues

With each day that draws to a close, humans seen through microscopes are a useless species. If you take a good look, a close look at what we have become, you’ll find it just the same. We invent things that have great value attached to them, almost precious should they become lost one day. It’s sickening when you let your mind dwell on it for too long. For me though, that dwelling has turned from sickening, into soul crushing. Take a ride on the local transit system, and you’ll find an example within the time it takes to reach the next stop. Look at all the lost beings shuffling around aimlessly with their heads shoved into an electronic toy. What do you see if you look just a little bit further below that device? Welcome to them blues…

Each morning, I wake. I shower, grab a set of clothes, my wallet, cell, and headphones. I make sure my door is locked before leaving. I walk to the bus stop just down the road while listening to music, and I wait a few minutes for the bus to show. It’s twenty minutes into the city on a good day, thirty with more passengers getting on. I get to my stop, cross the main road, and wait once more for the next bus to take me to the next city over for work. This ones usually filled with local community college students. I’m the first stop after we cross the river with a nice scenic view into the city. Work is only a block over, good for the exercise I guess. I clock in at 7:15 each morning to begin my day. It can be long, sometimes mentally draining, but overall, I enjoy what I do each day. I punch out at 4:45 each evening, walking back to the bus stop one block over, and wait for the bus to take me back across the river. I get off at the covered waiting area, and for the next ten to twenty minutes, I let my mind go blank while I wait for the bus that’ll take me back out of the city. I get back to my apartment each night around 6:00, letting the next two or three hours slip by until I pass out. I rarely sleep well, if ever anymore. Before I know it, my routine starts once again as my alarm goes off.

My office space is filled with tables surrounding my chair. It’s neat, organized. Things have been placed such that I can easily find them without much thought to distract me from my work. The same can be said for my apartment, empty feeling. Just like my office, everything can be packed away into a car, ready to be moved in a single trip. You’ll find no photos of family or friends at my desk. None to even be tucked away should a client need to meet with me. My apartment is almost as bare on the walls, save for a single framed poem, with a photo of my daughter tucked inside. For an outsider standing in my shoes, seeing things through my eyes as I make my way through a day, you’d think I’d have completely shut down from the world around me. In many ways, you’d be accurate in that account.

Visions Clear

Again its come to haunt my night. Where darkness had come to be my friend, to hide all not wished to be seen. This vision demanding truths wanted hidden cannot be stopped but for the light of day. A slave it seems am I to be bound helplessly watching hopes and fears, twist and turn in the dark air, mixed with a hearts despair.

Sitting in silence, I watch as tears fall down your face. They try to comfort you as they sit across from you, never knowing the whole story. And as each tear hits your check, I cringe inside, hoping its not for me.

Softly your voice is heard, through all the deafening silence, I hear it quickly, “I made a mistake…”, and then nothing. In that moment, my heart breaks, as I realize what is meant. Hugging in comfort, they try desperately to console you. She looks around as his arms are still around you, scanning for something that seems to have upset her.

Soft voices echoing from the distance, indistinct, but firm. Her face lights up like a small childs on Christmas morning, staring at all the presents under the tree. And for a few moments, just watches everything unfold.

A flood of little feet scampering all around the park, laughter felt from all of them. Slowly the parents begin to emerge from the tree line at the edge of the hill. Still shocking to see how well they’ve grown, and how much they’ve succeeded in life thus far. Her face swells with tears as she sees me walking slowly behind, being escorted by little hands. She’s able to recognize after all these years, the same man and daughter older.

I sit on a bench, talking with the other adults, my kids fully grown, as we watch kids and grandkids alike. A finger shoots up towards our direction, as she attempts to get your attention. You gasp, and then let out the tears you were trying to hide. Through their falling, a smile creeps onto your face as you watch all of us enjoying our afternoon. The sadness comes in waves across your face as you seem to slowly realize all that was lost in choice.

And a small hand taps my leg for attention. Asked softly why a woman is crying across the way. Try to explain there are many reasons a person crys, from happiness to sadness, but it does little to help ease the curiosity. Tugging at me arm, trying to pull me towards the crying thinking I can make things better somehow, my grandson asks me to help the woman in tears. I ask him to explain what he means for me to do. With innocent eyes, he looks up and asks me to take her pain away. Knowing I can’t deny his request without further explainations, I ask him to point her out for me. When he does, a double take is done. I couldn’t believe what I saw, but it was you he had pointed to. He asked again for me to help make your tears go away.

I sat back down quickly, almost stumbling as I did so. Concerned, he asked my what was wrong. I tried to explain to him simply, that the woman he heard crying was someone that once meant the world to me. He knew instantly what I was talking about. Shortly after letting him know, I found myself completely surrounded by my family. All of them asking what was wrong until he spoke up to tell his story of the crying woman heard being the love lost.

They all look to where he points. Concern rushes onto their face as they slowly turn back around. Alli’s the first to ask what no one else wants to, “are you going to go over to her?”. Before anyone realizes, we all hear Eme calling your attention. She sits down by your side, pulls you close in a loving hug, and holds you in silence. Jeri and Jeremy are in shock, and confused. They look towards where she had come from, and understand then, what’s happening when they see me walking, with kids all around.

Eme moves away as I get close, motioning for me to sit by you, to take her place. Hesitantly I do so. Unsure what to do, or even say, I put my hand on yours. You quickly grasp mine before interlocking fingers. My grandson tugs at my pant leg, whispers loudly for me to help dry your tears. This seems to trigger the rest of your tears, as you bury your head in my shoulder, arms wrapped around me. The only thing I can bring myself to say, is that I was sorry you were in pain.

Through your tears, I hear you say four hushed words, “I made a mistake”. I just held you closer, wiping away your tears.

Violently, I awaken to an alram yet to go off, with tears in my eyes once more. Each time this vision has come, it becomes more intense, and detailed. It gets harder to shake the pain that’s left in its wake.