a poem to stephen

a poem to stephen
(  11 July 2007  )

a letter from a friend
a speech he is to give
an aa meeting
to speak at last
quiet for twenty-five
         years

i read his words
quite moved
quite distressed
in my own ways
the tale he had to tell
we all have a tale to tell
( yes          i have told mine
…  in my own way)          

the images he created
knew but not known
in the details
not very easy
… especially the knowing
one was a part of it
in ways not proud
( oh yes … i played
         … my part
                   … too well )

he wishes to avoid the past
now I know … why
i find no fault in that
each must deal with it
in their own way
he has chosen
i must respect that
… and I do          greatly

where as i … i
can not seem to avoid it
returning again and yet again
continually drawn
like darkness to the light
looking … for something
undefined
but something
( sometimes it seems
         for anything )

i am glad
… in strange way
he has the past
he remembers it
he has confronted it
he is alive
continues to survive

what he has found
i can not grasp
a different world
unknown to me
as mine to him
( we can only relate
         in some common way)
still not the same

he has his demons
i have my own
we deal with them
day after day
some days we lose
others … just hold our own
never seem to ‘win’
but to just go on
to fight
         to struggle
yet another day
all we can ask
all we can hope for
it is never over

what has become of us
the years taking their toll
we have become tame
domesticated
subject to the rules of civility
is it what has kept us
… alive
         despite all else

maybe we have learned
         something good
we have learned how to live

the flame has not gone out
it no longer rages
like a fire out of control
just an ember dying
gasping to just glow
dreaming of some re-ignition

damn it is a bitch
to grow yet another year
older and then older
still
to want to live
as one once lived
so long ago
not yet totally forgotten
but unwilling to be
         … remembered
for reasons admitted
and denied

the past was good
when it was happening
at least we thought so
… then
         but now
now - not really so sure
good times                    but
there were the bad
which one tipped the balance
         … and at what price

oh yes          
         we paid a price
not always at a bargain
sometimes
more than it was worth
we forget that
         maybe too often
( so much i have forgotten
         now rudely reminded )

our ghosts will return
time and time    again
telling us things
we may not wish
to hear
         to think of
                   to remember
but speak they will

we can deny them
         or
make peace with them
         or
at least a truce
the best we can

your speech -
a confrontation
with your ghosts
no longer denial
may you find peace
or at least …
         a workable truce

as for me
i confront my own
in written words
a peace here
         a truce there
my questions –
they remain
the answers –
         maybe
they too will come

may the answers
ones that you seek
come to you
         my friend
and peace be yours