Time

Time

We are approaching another milestone 

One more year since you went from us

There are days you are closer than ever

And then, there are days you are far away

I can sit, close my eyes, become very still

I allow the images of you to flood my mind

I hear your voice as if you are speaking today

Memories and questions surround me

For you, all time has ceased

You are not growing older 

Everything about you is a memory

Every question already has it’s answer

For me, time is still fluid and alive

Fragments travel past in memories stream

I can catch and hold pieces temporarily 

Before the swift currents of time steal them away

Let’s talk about time

Time is the ultimate taker and giver 

Time tries to destroy all things

What it cannot destroy, it alters completely 

I am not the same as I was thirteen years ago

Not the same man who sat at your bedside

Not the same as the one meeting with the doctors

Not like to one relinquishing hope for reality

I try and succeed at remembering good days

The times we laughed and cried together

The conversations we thought would be endless

The numerous holidays we celebrated 

Always, time brings me back

Always, time makes me know

Always, feeling the immeasurable void

Knowing what I had and have no longer

I know it is time which gives me so much

Time has given me children, grandchildren 

And even recently, a great grandson

None possible without the passing of time

It is the same passage of time

Giving so much, taking so much

Inexorably twisted together

Bound by an unbreakable line

For now, I will struggle to stand still

In the rushing stream of time

To feel your presence around me

To know your heart and mind

To hear your voice and your words

To relive moments, to recapture feelings

To stop it all from slipping away

To never lose you in times rushing 

It is but for the moment

I am tethered to time

I am restrained by its whims

I am a captive within its bounds

Even now 

I can feel the edge of change 

I can feel the destruction

Eroding the periphery 

I cling to you with desperation 

Losing you is losing myself

I refuse to give in to this jailer

I cannot relinquish the memories

Time

You will not destroy this

You will not alter this

I will not give in

So many years, so much change

Situations and circumstances 

New wrinkles, new aches and pains

New loves and new worries

This, still, I will hold 

Just beyond your flow

I will rehearse your stories

I will not give them to time

I close my eyes, I get very still

I sharpen the focus

Thanks for being strong enough

To assuage the ravages of time

Another year

Another day

Another hour

Time

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

February 29, 2020

Catching up

I haven’t been active on this forum for a while due to other sources of getting things out there. With all the other options, I‘ve neglected here. I’ll try to do better and catch up some of the writing I’ve been doing. It’s been a lot. It goes in spurts. Here’s something I wrote recently:

Gentle breezes and tidal waves

So, this is life

Unpredictable 

Filled with the unknowable 

And moments of shining clarity

We aren’t sure which it was

Until we are miles ahead

Looking back down the pathway

Even then, we can’t be absolutely sure

One moment 

We are enjoying 

A gentle breeze 

And the next

We are being swept away 

By a tidal wave 

Or perhaps

It’s just my life

I hear others

Talking about life

As if it were a seamless event

And I look at mine

Chaotic and random 

I wonder

Maybe, there’s something

I don’t understand about life

Therefore, I take some serious time

In deep diving introspection 

To make some sort of sense

To find the purpose of it all

To connect the randomness

To clarify the chaotic

To make peace 

With the breezes and the waves 

I believe 

We are a designed being

Having callings and purposes 

Our lives seek reasons

Because there must be a reason

(Don’t get your hopes up

I’m not about to explain the meaning of life

There’s not enough paper or ink)

Still, we seek a reason or cause

Nature can explain tidal waves

And predict the gentle breeze

But it doesn’t translate to life

Possibly, my calling is the random

My purpose is in the chaotic

Or maybe I’m a drowning man

Grasping at straws to save me

Regardless

I’ll take each day as it comes

Whether with a breeze or a wave

I’ll enjoy the tidal wave

I’ll survive the gentle breeze

Because, that’s what life is

Irregular and jumbled

And still filled with wonder

I have found purpose

In the randomness

I have found love abundant

In the ensuing melee

I am surrounded by friends

And random strangers

We are all finding life

Teeming with perplexity

Life

I’ll take it

Gentle breezes

Tidal waves

Ron Simpson Jr. 

January 26, 2020

The Air I Breathe

Relationship: Connection or link; The way in which two or more concepts, objects, or people are connected.

I am convinced, a vital part of our living is formed by our relationships with those around us and beyond. Everyone with whom I interact has a relationship with me, and I with them, the depth of which is determined by how they affect me. Some of these can be toxic. Many can be and are benign. But, there are those few which are core touching relationships. It is of these I speak the following:

The Air I Breathe

I knew we were vitally connected

I did not fathom the depth

But it should come as no surprise

You are the deepest and longest connection

I have, or had, in my life

Our connection began at conception

I was little more than a biological spark

I was the convergence of two 

In the ampulla of the fallopian tube

A single piercing

An arduous journey

A chamber embedding

An explosion of life 

And our relationship began

For months, a few shy of a year

Our relationship grew

I was growing 

Surrounded by a wash 

Of myriad sounds and sensations

But, never far from the sound

Of one solitary heartbeat

Growth occurred rather quickly

Then, at the right time

You gave me a new world

New sounds, new sights, new everything

And especially, new relationships

From then until now

Through the good and the bad

Through the joy and the sorrow

Through the highs and the lows

Through relationships beginning and ending

Ours has changed and grown, but remained constant

In other relationships

At times, there were questions

Of perseverance and permanence 

In this, my oldest and dearest relationship

These questions never surfaced

There is not enough time in a lifetime 

To write down all the lessons you taught

To showcase all the shining examples 

To commemorate all the important occasions

Based on, or being part of this

My oldest relationship

Then, without warning or preparation

One moment, here

The next moment, gone

It is as if

The strength has been drained from my body

The light has been stolen from the sky

The air has been sucked out of the room

This relationship

This lifelong interaction

This intricately interwoven thread

From conception until now

Irrevocably altered

Tied so deeply to my strength

Attached so strongly to my sunshine

Such a part of my every breath

For this moment

I am lost

I am adrift 

I am alone 

In a crowd

In time I will see

While dramatically changed

The relationship is still there

And will continue until it is my turn to go

Days will come

I will hear a familiar heartbeat

You will be my strength

You will be my light

You will be the air I breathe

Ron Simpson Jr.

August 27, 2018

Eight days,

Eight weeks,

Eight months,

Eight years,

I keep waiting for it to get easier

It hasn’t

I wait

For the numbness

To give way

I wait

For the full weight

Of the loss

I wait

For the hurting

To pass to the side

I wait

For the good memories

To push the pain away

You have been gone

Eight years, Dad

I keep waiting for it to get easier

It hasn’t.

Ron Simpson, Jr.

March 8, 2015

Word Play

Hard to

Read

This is a

Poem that doesn't

Say much of

Anything except to

Be hard to 

Read because it

Doesn't follow the

Commonly

Used structure of

Sentencing

It breaks at

All the wrong 

Places and

Therefore interrupts

The readers

Flow of

Reading

This forces

The reader to

Search for the

Meaning of the 

Words so

Eclectically

Written and

Structured

Perhaps this is

Not such a bad

Thing if it

Causes us to

Step outside and

See what is being

Said and not 

Assuming we 

Already know what

The writer is

Saying

Maybe we 

Need to listen this

Way as well

Ron Simpson

March 8, 2014

the glimmer of hope

Recently, while working in the emergency department, I was witness to a small family group as their loved one was slipping away. I could hear their conversations with each other and with the ER staff. I wasn't eavesdropping, but they were only a few feet from where I was on a ladder. I remember some of the conversation parts, but the words were less important that what was hanging on each one of them. It was obvious to the staff and to each in this family's group that these were their loved ones final minutes.

Yet, in spite of their resignation to the fact, there remain the smallest glimmer of hope. This hope, however slight, became a dam, holding back the flood. I know this because I saw the hope and I saw the eventual flood. It appeared that when hope was extinguished the flood of grief rushed over them. There was no gradual resignation; no slow acceptance; no release by degrees. There was hope; then, there was grief. There were words laced with a flavor of unreasonable expectation; then, there were cries of anguish. It made me think of that hope.

I know nothing of the person in the room. I never saw them. I know nothing of the small family gathered there. I did not linger with my looks. I did not want to intrude upon their hope nor did I want to invade their grief. 

I saw enough and heard enough to feel their hope and to feel their grief. 

Just that slightest fragment of hope was enough to withstand the destructive force of loss. 

I am thankful for my hope. Paul, the Apostle of Jesus Christ, said it was the 'anchor' of the soul. 

Hope is the oasis to my spirit when I travel in dry and parching places. 

It is the rest to my mind when circumstances and events seek to steal my strength. 

It is the dam that keeps the flood waters of despair at bay. 

It is the glimmer in the darkness. 

It is the path by which we traverse the valleys. 

It is the anchor, keeping me from being swept away. 

It is my lifeline when I climb the nearly sheer face of the mountain. 

At times it is a bright beacon held aloft to light our way. 

At other times, it is just the flickering of life remaining in the embers. 

but even its weakest flickering chases away the darkness. 

It is my security when I have no reason to believe. 

It carries and uses words, though words cannot define it. 

I can show you what it does, but I cannot tell you what it is. 

I can show you where it is, but I cannot tell you what it is. 

I can show you the countless works of those that lean on it, but I cannot tell you what is it. 

I can show you what it looks like in the face of a survivor, but I cannot tell you what it is. 

I can show you the devastation that follows when it is lost, but still, I cannot tell you what it is. 

I can point you to the source, but I cannot tell you what it is. 

It is everywhere I look and yet it is undefinable. 

Regardless of the source of your hope, it is still the anchor. Regardless of your faith or belief, that hope is still your anchor. 

Life allows U-turns

One of the best things about life is the ability to change it. Your day may not start in the morning as mine does, but we will use 'morning' as a analogy for a starting point. Every morning (see how we did that) when you start your day, you have to option to continue on the path you finished on the night before, or go in a completely new and different direction. 

We hear it all the time. Today is the day I start doing this or stop doing that. That is a U-turn in life. It doesn't automatically remove any consequences from the old path, but it does stop them from continuing to compile. 

Daily, we hear of someone starting 'their diet,' or quitting smoking, or drinking, or starting a new job. Those are the U-turns that life allows. 

We read about stars recreating or rebranding themselves to rejuvenate a dwindling career. We can do the same. See the person you want to be and turn in that direction. 

Life allows U-turns!!

Scooby Doo