A PROCESS TO PROGRESS

A Process to Progress


Excuse if the poem puts a tear in your eye

the same tears that hunted my pen,

those same salty rain drops that stained papers I've written on

I ask you almighty father, why can't I move on

this mourning on the same days

anniversarys

and birthdays

to my enlistement days

to that day

I was standing in the door way

Watching with shock,

talking in screeches,

fearing the site of a love one made me speechless

typing is showing shakey hands in weakness

I can through this

but who am I fooling

crying like the first day of pre K schooling

1993 was suppose to beginning for me,

but it was the ending of life who spawn this seed

Remembering that night so well awaken from a dream

sitting erected in bunk, feeling a breeze surrounding me

I ran through P-ways like General quarters alrams sounding off

dipped into the communications room,

woke the radioman up,

connect me to DC

I need to 

I have to

just patch me through to this number

biting on teeth

ringing became repeated echos of unanswered calls

hang up

try again

again I said

again I beg

again the same tone

again while grasping of the phone.

One more chance, but call this number

Hello!

Mom,

please, have you talk to dad?

I just woke up from a dream and the dream was bad

Please call him,

I'll see you in 2 days

but I'll call again tomorrow

so don't go far away

Two days later.

Reunion on the pierside

my mom, stepfather, brother,

but my father wasn't insight

and my ****ing girl didn't have the nerve to show,

I knew it, I'mma fet threw this, F that hoe.

Three hours, 85 miles, one speeding lane later.

I'm grabbing my keys, calling on celly

on my way to NorthEast

Trinadad Ave

took out my house keys

stinch forced its way out the door way

I yelled out dad, are you home?

no answer, no tone

just the smell of cheap cologne

til I walk into his room

and dad was sleep,

discolored and long gone

phone off the hook

me starring like I didn't know him

yelling cause that was not my dad

October 16th, the day I lost my dad,

the day christian faith went bad

never cried for no other

still deeply blaming my brotha, mother and others 

for not calling him the whole time I was gone

Every poem, is a step to move on,

but today is that day,

same face

same place

same tears

same fears

Lawd I know he just step out,

but its ok to lead him back to me,

sorry, just for a second I got lost

the day my heart went right to wrong

the day my dad was gone!



By LeRoy Goetzendanner