John I Nash

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As I reach my boat I hear the clanking of the halyard against the mast, a sound I have longed to hear music to my ears. Excitement builds as I calmer aboard and make ready my boat for the adventure she and I will share.

Knowing wind to my stern will ease my departure, boom to port tiller pushed away to my starboard she knows her way now, this Philly of the sea. Jib starboard Main to the port we sail wings in front of the wind.
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If we have to say goodbye, I want you to know that I did not want to die and leave you alone for this I will try to atone. I know not what lies ahead; I only know what I leave behind. The soft brush of your lips, I will feel no longer, your bright smile that lightened up my day for these many years that sun has gone away.

Your touch that healed my heart will no longer be there, I never took it for granted and many of my nightmares involved its loss and us being apart and now I must play that part.
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I am not well, as people have taken a little part of me every time they came calling, drawing to much water from a spring that already was shallow.

Persons who have proven themselves to be emotional and physical vampires' sucking the blood of life from me and shredding my existence, some have even done it long distance, each one taking a little bite from my tormented soul.
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The day is done, the sun has started to hide behind the mountains, leaving the landscape to darkness and myself. Familiar shapes have now taken on ominous existence, company that I do not desire on this journey into the black wood to Vansant's Cemetery.

My presence starts to decline as involuntary shivers run up my spine. Stiffness envelops my limbs making it difficult to walk or stay, feeling like prey.
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Be my wife.
Be my life.
Be my love.
Be my best friend to the end.
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In the evening twilight, in the wood by the sea, I have found a delight among the dark trees, brambles, pine needles aground, so profound as to take away my breath.
Nearby stood an ever so perfect wild rose, blood red its color is said, not a petal out of place, nor a leaf turned brown, thorn not to be found.
The moist air hung heavy with its perfumed essence, no yet partaken of, wanting to be consumed, a tune not yet played.
Taking a deep breath I did hungrily devour it, all human feelings devoid of any sadness did smile on such a frail thing that let my soul soar as though it were winged.
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Love evades me, as a dove that cannot be held, only admired from afar. I have reached out to touch its purity many times, only to see it fly away into the sky and hide behind the dark clouds of life.
I have traveled many long roads that go nowhere and sailed to many faraway shores looking for something I feel is no longer there, yet I have witnessed those who have found the allusive dove and made it their own.
A great many years have come and gone and time has not stood still, now my destiny lies not in my future but in my past. What once I asked of mortal man I now ask of God, at first as a humble request and then with total despair.
O HEAR me Lord, do you not see my plight? Love has abandoned me all these many nights!
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In a smoke filled room, the lights so low that it looks like gloom the Guitar man ply's his trade. A voice that has stood the test of time and fingers scarred by the strings of a million tunes, he softly croons his melancholy song.

His eyes tell a story of sadness and despair his deep voice has tragedy written there. He sings my life with every note, and every song a window to my soul. I hear his voice in my mind as he eases my pain.
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My brother, my brother for one another we did fight, hand to hand was our plight, not an easy sight.

When a bullet went through my heart, I no longer could bear the fight.
In death no peace did I have, as brother after brother did join me in the darkness that night.
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This space is no longer your place; we have judged you a disgrace. Matters not the good you have done in the past, we have judged you no longer fit, that was our task.

We do not care about the torment that we caused in your life, we wish you nothing but ill, so be still so that we may slander you at will.
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Around this table we have gathered family and friends to give thanks for the many blessings we have received.
Dear Lord, let this meal prepared by loving hands, remind us all, of the bountiful life, that you have bestowed upon us.
In our hearts we remember all those who are absent from this celebration of gratitude.
We break this bred in memory of your divine presence at our table.
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Do not mislay the memories we shared for at this moment in time be aware nothing else is there. They will keep you warm and heal your heart with their embrace.

Love our children twofold as much as when I was near and dear for they mourn my absence as you.
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I still use this pen; it is an old friend it never asks where, why or when. I do not blame it for my many mistakes, it has seen many successes, failures and heart aches.

This old pen, like life has no delete button; the pen makes me own my errors, ink cannot be easily erased. I must cross out each unused word and discard it from my mind; this is a painful procedure at best and at worst a thirst for a word that may not exist.
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Look at me I'm not what you see; you look only at the outside of me.
On the inside of my being, I'm in pain caused by you and the words that condemn to the end my love as unworthy.

To you and them it seems unnatural, to me natural in every way this day and always, when I hold my loves hand your stares show contempt.
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Whenever I am able, I labor hard to put food on the table both yours and mine.

I smile at you even when I'm awful tired, but all you show me is disdain. I must be insane to take the abuse you lay upon me each and every day.
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Let me hold you tenderly and make your troubles fade away this day.
Look into my eyes and see the love my heart holds for you that is true.

Hold my hand and feel its warmth as we take comfort in the security of our touch and the brush of our lips.
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No word he speaks, no question asked, in volume his eyes seek.
Love projected through touch and stare.
No one knows he is there.
He dares defy the norm, this child of the storm.
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She dances, jumps, twirls and whirls.
On her toes she goes.
All know she is the famous dancer; Shelby Ballerina, you should have seen her.
Smiles, eyes all aglow.
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During the time of my death, I had thought about my failures and all the Dare-yas that I did not pursue.

I contemplated all the places I did not travel to, rather than making the best out of the place I was, - - This I did not do.
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