"I Once Was a Man Who"

I wrote this poem nearly 5 years ago. It captures my feelings at the time. I had worked hard for nealry 10 years, doing whatever I could to improve my emotional and spiritual self. One day, I discovered that I had finally gotten somehwere, that all my work was paying some rewards, and I was truely happy for the first time in my life. For that 18 month period, I did not become compacent and stop working, but I was not for the VERY FIRST TIME I CAN REMEMBER in my life, I was not depressed. Sure, bad things happened, but it was just water off the ducks back. I was living life and loving and growing and just BEING. Then, one late October day, it was gone.


I once was a man who had a choice
I once was man who was not alone
I once was a man who tried to right all of the wrong he had done
I once was a man who only wanted to help those in need
I once was man who thought his life's experiences were for a reason
I once was a man who had Purpose
I once was a man who had great hopes and grand dreams
I once was a man who felt that one day his life would be better
I once was a man who knew right from wrong, Bad from Good, Heaven from Hell
I once was a man who thought he knew God
I once was a man who thought he was part of God's Plan
I once was a man who thought he understood
Now, I am not.



The road back has been long, and very difficult. In fact, I can not say right now at this moment that I am back. Nor do I beleive I will ever be back. That might be for the best. I can see now where some of those old things were flawed. My foundation was solid and steady, but some how the higher structures were weak. Somedays, I still struggle a little with "good and bad, heaven and hell." I have noticed that the higher one's growth, the older one gets, the more one learns, that things are not so black and white, but grey. They were before that day in October, but it seemed to be less confusing to me.

There has been one theme in my life that has been very persistant: change. Oh, not your reguar small changes or even some partical major ones, not any of the garden varities. I am talking about complete genicide. I work to get myself to a good place, and then, in a matter of a few brief moments, it is ALL gone. Not even one single drop of water in the glass. Then, more hard work only to have it happen again. As a child, we moved often. We moved just often enough to make it more difficult. If we had moved, say once a year, it would not be as hard becuase there would not be enough time to get established with friends and to become comfortable. There are many other examples, but not now. This last time, ever single part of me changed, even on the inside, and to the core and beyond. ALL that I knew and trusted was gone. Somedays now, I still have trouble trusting. For a while in this past 5 years, I felt like Job from the Bible. A part of some cruel bet. Job got his "stuff" back, but different. Was he stronger for it? Will I be? Right now, I wonder. Sure, he was and I will be, but right now, I wonder why? Asking why is not good for a person who is not ready to hear the answer. The answer is still forthcoming for me, eventhough I feel I am ready to hear it and to LISTEN and to accept. I am not a person who believes that we should not question why. I am not one of those small minded Christains who thinks we should accept without asking. I do believe in faith for no reason. I also know that why is a difficult question. With some patients and understanding and an open mind and an open heart, why will come. I do accept God without question, but a truer deeper faith comes from asking why, provided one does not get lost. I have been lost. I have been angry. I have harbored resentment that sunk the ship to the bottom of the bay. It is not a pretty sight. I wallowed there for a long time gathering rust and barnilces and lost a good deal of myself to decay. I have had to rise back to the surface, barnicles and all. Today I guess I found another banricle that I need to remove. A small word of advise, do not allow any barnicles to grow. They have roots and when you take them off, a piece of yourself goes with them. Then you have this open wound that needs to heal. Sometimes, they do not scab over and leak puss for a time. Chicks do not dig puss ozzing sores. It is all for a Reason. A Reason that is not always clear to me, but becoming more and more understanding.

I need chocolate.