Broken

Societally,

we feel the need 

to assess blame

for whatever happens

We seek the weakness

which must be the reason 

for nothing breaks

unless something is weak

This is a misnomer

It takes a great quality of strength 

to allow oneself to be weak

and continue, even broken

When we are born

we come into this world

weak and nearly defenseless

without even knowing 

we come, needing someone

As we grow

we rely on the strength

and independence

of our parents

as we watch them raise us

They teach us

necessarily so

to be independent

to 'stand on our own two feet'

We learn, by rote

when something is broken

there are two things to choose

fix it or throw it away

As a parent looking back

I see now, the error of my teaching

if I taught my children

that weakness is powerless

and that broken is useless

As the sum of humanity

we are all weak sometimes

and often brokenness

creeps into our lives

Just as when we were born,

by the greatness of design

Life, fate, or God

(call it whichever you choose)

has placed those with strength

into our lives

In these times of weakness

whether short or long

they are there for us

to utilize their strength

In times of brokenness

again, whether short or long

they are there for us

to hold us together

We all need someone at times

someone to hold us up

someone to hold us together

someone to get us through those times

Brokenness is not weakness

the strength required

just to continue in these times

is far greater than ever required before

Our character

the sum of our experiences

with the addition of our actions

will never be defined by our brokenness

We are who we are

when we are weakest

when we are most broken

when that strength

that we have forgotten 

comes shining through

The strength

to take another person’s hand

to lean on the shoulder of a friend

to allow love to bind our brokenness

It is your great strength

that will allow you to be weak

that will allow you to be broken

and will carry you through

with help, a little or a lot

Strong things break

inflexible things shatter

strength is perfected

in times of weakness

If you must be weak

be strong through it

if you must be broken

be flexible enough to lean

Brokenness

has never been

about weakness

Broken

Strong

Ron Simpson, Jr.

January 18, 2015

You Walked In

You walked in

Crumbling 

I guess that best describes 

The condition of my life

If anyone really looked

My friends

And they truly are my friends 

Missed it as they walked about

Around and through my life 

There was no malice

There was no neglect

There was no forethought

None of this was their intent 

It is merely

The busyness of every life

The care and concerns 

The day to day of living 

And still 

I crumbling stand

In the midst of it all

Feeling alone in the crowd

To say

You walked in 

Would be a misnomer 

Speaking technically

You were always there

From the beginning

Until now

You have been at my side 

You were there, waiting 

Although again

Speaking strictly technically

You weren't actually waiting 

You were walking

You were working

You were holding

You were supporting

Sometimes this load 

The one I decided to carry

Caused me to sway

Under the burden unexpected 

You kept me from falling

You provided invisible support

When my legs buckled

And my arms flailed 

To others, or mostly myself

It seemed amazing

I didn't crumble 

Looking back, it seemed miraculous 

I felt the obligation

Gaining weight 

Or I losing strength

Or fading in resolve

I can't give a timetable

Or tell you how long

I didn't count the steps

Or measure the distance 

From a decision

To a light affliction 

To a encumbrance 

To the crushing millstone

I carried that day

I cried out

By reason of my fear

The ground beneath my feet

Seemed as a troubled sea

"Lord, save me"

The words

Driving from my soul

Nearly drowned out by weariness 

You walked in

Your hand moved between 

My seeming inescapable burden

And my crumbling life

For the first time 

I felt a taste of freedom

Separated from my affliction 

The weight from my birth

There are no adequate words

None can convey the joy

Like trying to describe 

Taking your first breath

I sing now

Not the song of sorrow

But of a joy, unspeakable

Full of glory

I speak now

Not the words of death and dying

But the words of living and life

And that, more abundantly 

I walk now

Not the walk of the slave

But the walk, not by sight

In a newness of life

I live now

Not in the darkness of shame

But I live in the light

Marvelously created

In Him

I live now

I move

I have my being

Not one part of my life

Was not changed

When I cried out

When You walked in

You walked in

Ron Simpson, Jr. 

September 28, 2014

Poetry .. Questions

Questions

If, by inattention

I allowed you to become my life

And then you walked away

If, even by design

I made you my whole life

And then you weren’t there

If, foolishly I guess

I lost myself in the wraps of you

And suddenly you slipped through

If, of late

I took you for granted and leaned too hard

And then you were gone

If, I only saw

The things about you I loved

And then there was something I disliked

If, by some twist of chance

You became my foundation

But you left, in the storm

If, I unwittingly

Became completely dependent

Then you did something unexpected

If, you became my rock

But turned out to be

A rolling stone

If, I made you my comfort

In the darkest of nights

And then couldn't find you in the blackness

If, my laugh

Became tied to your laugh

And then I couldn't hear it

If, my tears

Knew your wiping hand

But then, it wasn't there to stop them

Did you know

How much I let you become

And did it chase you away

Did my life

So entwined with yours

Begin to choke a little

Was I

Too dependent

Too independent

Was I

Too close

Too far away

Was I

Not enough

Too much

Will I

Love again

Trust to love again

Will I

Find another heart

Will I even look

Sigh,

There is no one

To hear my heart

As it continues

To ask the questions

If I

Did I

Was I

Will I

Questions

Ron Simpson, Jr.

September 13, 2010

poetry .. for 9-11

I wrote this following the 9-11 attacks, when all the talk was about hate and retaliation .. It is not what this great nation was built upon .. More and more today, I see us united, not by our love, but by our hatred and intolerance .. there was a great man that said that we were "dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. We are now engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated can long endure."

I will not teach my children to hate

How do I teach my children?

Is it in the abundance of the words I say?

Can words turn their hearts,

When they are held in my actions sway;

What example have I fashioned,

Living in my day to day,

Every harsh or cruel word,

Molding hearts like pliant clay;

What acts of kindness,

Will influence their way,

To which memory will they turn

When passions begin to stray;

When attacks defy reason,

And retaliation seems the way,

Which lesson will stay them,

And let love rule the day;

Please, let me not teach them

A hardness of spirit or heart,

Please, let me show them

Where hatred doesn’t have a part;

Let my actions be tempered,

Make my words wrath turning,

Let me lead them in deed,

Now and forever learning;

A softness of heart,

Is not weakness implied,

It is just the shining out,

Of loves flame inside;

Which flickering flame,

I have sought carefully to tend,

Until brightly it burns,

In today’s fiercest wind;

I do not fear times ravage,

Nor put my trust in fate,

I face the future with pride,

I have not taught my children to hate

Ron Simpson, Jr.

October 20, 2001

Poetry

Someone asked me to write a prayer poem for our Pastor .. here is the result:

The Shepherds

For the sake of their charge,

They stand in the gap

And make up the hedge,

In the heat and the cold

In the sun and in the rain

If they ache,

The sheep never hear

If their heart is heavy,

They try to shield the sheep

That the heaviness isn’t shared

For it is their burden to carry

In their sorrow, they still stand

In their weariness, they still stand

If they ask anything of their charge

They simply ask for prayer

This is their task

This is their burden

This is their joy

This is their glory

God, our master Shepherd

Give added strength

To our undershepherds

Give them added joys

For our shared sorrows

Give them added courage

For when our hearts are faint

Give them wisdom to know the way

And guidance to lead us home

Give me the power withal

To hold up their hands

For they often hold us

To hold up their souls

For they cry for our souls

To hold up their hearts

For they weep for our hearts

Bless them, O’ Lord

As they bless our lives

Ron Simpson, Jr.

August 15, 2010

poetry ..

A website (which shall remain nameless) posted a contest to write a love poem of fifteen words or less. In order to be able to enter the contest, you have to upgrade your membership from the 'free' kind to the 'pay' kind. I didn't find this out until after I had written my entry, and was not willing to upgrade (sigh.) I did, however, like the nameless results of my effort. Here they are:

Two hearts align

Two worlds collide

Two fates entwine

Two souls reside

In one love

Ron Simpson, Jr.

August 3, 2010

poetry .. for a friend .. "Hold On"

Hold on

I was holding on

Holding on to the ledge

My security was there

Holding on to the fear

That flying might just be falling

Holding on to the pain

Of loves lost in the past

I was holding on tightly

Until you

I felt my security begin to shift

To the feel of your arms around me

I felt my fear begin to fade

In the light you brought to my life

I felt the pain recede

Pushed away by your smile

Without trying or even realizing

I found myself falling

Far from my ledge

Far from my fear

Far from my pain

And then

You said

“hold on”

“What ?”

Ron Simpson, Jr.

August 1, 2010

Don’t sell your happiness .. poetry

Don’t sell your happiness

Don’t sell your happiness to any one person

There are a myriad of people in my life

In whom, I have invested some of my happiness

However, the bulk of my happiness still resides with me

I must be the ultimate author of my happiness

The bubbling wellspring still remains in my court

There are no friends that can take my happiness away

Understand, losing them will produce a sadness

And that sadness may continue for many days

But, the fountainhead of my happiness still flows

There is no family that can wipe away my happiness

Although loss or anger may generate a sorrow

And that sorrow may last a lengthy time

But still, in my plaza, there is a fountain

Where happiness continues to stream

There is no love of my life that can staunch my happiness

Although that happiness may be hidden for a time

Behind a seeming insurmountable wall of pain

But my happiness knows it will outlast

A wall of pains bricks mortared by hurt

It will trickle slowly through the seams

Until erosion forces the fall

And happiness washes away the remnants

But only,

If I have not sold my happiness to any one person

Ron Simpson, Jr.

August 1, 2010

Camelot .. poetry

Camelot

They were days we thought would never end

We were filled with all the wisdom

Fifteen or sixteen years could impart

Our kingdom was just a bus ride away

We navigated the obstacles with the ease of familiarity

We made friends with wondrous ease

We fell head over heels in love,

Sometimes more than once a week

Some of us found lifelong loves and partners

Some of us found lifelong callings and careers

We honed the basic life skills we learned in kindergarten

We found allies and rivals

We understood everything completely differently than we do today

We were living in Camelot and never knew

We called it by its dreaded nom de plume, high school

If it were a lifetime as we surmised,

We have lived more than two others since then

We learned who we are by learning who we were in History class

We learned the whys and how’s of the world’s workings in Science class

We learned the beauty and majesty of life

And how to capture it in English class

We learned that, although everything is life does not,

Everything in Math class does add up

We learned about the caste system in the cafeteria

We learned survival of the fittest in the gym

We learned about serenity in music class

Some thirty-five years has passed

And I can still recall the elations of high school

I can still that aloneness that sometimes came with is as well

I can still summon up the feeling of sitting in front of a blank test paper

I can remember the necessary blandness of cafeteria food

That was the reward of being part of the herd

And that is not a negative thing,

For it helped teach me the value of my uniqueness

I was and am collectively part of the class of ’75, WCHS

It is a label I will wear proudly

On the lapel of my individuality

It is part of who I am

But it is not the sum total of all that I am

Knox, Noble, Renfro, Sweet, Tippett, and Grimes

Scott, Richardson, Jones, and Dye

Will always have their hand in my life

As they tried (sometimes in vain, it seemed) to mold me

Every teacher I have had in my life lives through me

I left Camelot much different than the day I arrived

And I took a piece of Camelot with me

Ron Simpson, Jr.

July 18, 2010

Why ?

I don’t love you

Because it is what I am supposed to do

I don’t love you

Because it is what I need to do

I don’t love you

Because it is what I want to do

I don’t love you

For all the reasons I could say

That would be equally true

I love you

Because I don’t know how

Not to love you

That is not to say

That I shouldn’t

Or wouldn’t

Or don’t want to love you

Because I do

However

I still do not know

How to not love you

And

I am fine with that

Ron Simpson, Jr.

July 2, 2010

Impact

Some words bring vivid images to bear

For me, impact brings a collage of imagery

Impact

July 5, 1930

Eighty years ago, a star landed on earth

This star did not hit the earth like an asteroid

Or create the havoc of a falling star

I would imagine, for that era,

There was not much splash at all

Except for family and some close friends

The event went mainly unnoticed by humanity

However, in the heavens, there was notice

It has been eighty years since the first impact

That birth immediately impacted some

And then, weaving a bold, yet intricate thread

It has impacted thousands

A stranger could closely inspect this life

And ascertain that the effect was minimal

Yet, today, there is a multitude,

Impacted by this one single life

Immediate family, approaching one hundred

Church family, in the thousands

Associates, colleagues, neighbors, nearly uncountable

And, his star, shone brightly for them all

Even his casual passing changed people

Such was his impact

Closer to home

I hear him when I talk at times

I see him when I glance quickly at a mirror

I know, when I think about things, I feel his impact

He was the most important man in my life

For all the things people called him

Too some, he was pastor

Too others, he was friend

There were some that called him boss

And other that called him a co-worker

I was, and still am, thrilled to call him ‘dad’

Thank you Dad

For your immeasurable impact

In my life

Ron Simpson, Jr.

July 5, 2010