Photo courtesy of Tess Kincaid for Magpie Tales

I always end up at Gate of Heaven

after the pub, but before dinner
it’s safer under the oaks
away from them
drownin’ in liquid amnesia
selfishly envious of feckin’ Able Moore.

Lucky bastard, dying like he did
war hero, soldier, saint
not a livin’, sufferin’ forgotten,
faceless sonofabitch bumming cigarettes
from snot nosed brats at the Seven Eleven

Remember me?
I didn’t always run and hide
on the Fourth of July
Don’t you goddamn
remember me?

I don’t feckin’ care if you don’t
But oh Jesus,
don’t you forget to remember me, Able
when I come into your kingdom

Rene ~ November 2011

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is often suffered silently.
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26 thoughts on “sanctuary

  1. Sweet Rene- You've always had a way with words… through the many years that I have been reading your works, you always come through! I saw the man in my mind as I read each word, asking, "Do you remember me?" The attitude, his posture and eyes of wonder…Much Peace & Blessings dear friend

  2. Dear ReneIn some simple day to day words, you have painted an emotional picture… thanks for sharing…Shashiॐ नमः शिवाय Om Namah Shivaya

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