Sunday, October 08, 2023

Real


Wow, twenty years 


It was twenty years ago 

In front of family and friends 

We stood and made promises 

One to the other 


In those twenty years 

(And the eighteen months before)

There had been hard times 

There has been raucous laughter 

There have been bitter tears 


We have endured sad times 

We have held hands and hearts 

While saying goodbye to loved ones 

Family and friends alike 


There have been celebrations 

We shared with our plethora of kids 

There were times we simply held them 

As their lives and hearts were broken 


There have been joyous welcomings 

As we added to our still growing family 

There have been heart rending moments 

As some gained wings before joining us 


We have been through the gamut 

Of joys and of sorrows 

While keeping the promises 

We wrote and spoke twenty years ago 


Still, there are times 

Sometimes late in the night 

I’ll reach over in the bed 

And I’ll simply touch you 


There are still times 

When passing you in the hall

Or in the kitchen

Or sitting at a window 


I’ll reach out gently 

And touch your shoulder 

Or caress your back 

Or stroke your hair 


I’ll give you a quick hug 

Or three quick kisses 

Or hold your hand briefly 

Just to be absolutely sure 


You are real 

This is real 

My heart believes 

And simultaneously 

Cannot believe 


This is real


Twenty years plus 

I’m still not sure 

How I deserve you 

And all of this 


So, I’ll keep checking 

With a touch 

With a caress 

With three quick kisses 


Real 


Ron Simpson Jr 

October 8, 2023 

(In anticipation of 

October 11, 2023

Monday, September 11, 2023

Finding the Line


There is a line 

Some days 

It can be hard to find 

Amid the constant clamor 


In the days following 

Still in the rawness of it 

There was fear bordering panic

There was anger and rage 


There was confusion and hatred 

There was a misleading unity 

There was a quickness to blame 

And a slowness to understand 


There was a malingering suspicion 

There was, facing the world 

In full and living color 

The worst of us 


Yet, there was unity 

There was community 

There was determination and resolve 

There was a national pride  


There were, in those days 

(And seems to still be) 

Fear mongers and hope bringers 

Filling the airways 


There is a line 

Some days 

It can be hard to find 

Amid the constant clamor 


The line is between 

Panic and ignorance 

Hatred and delusion 

Fear and oblivion 


It is vigilance 

Without prejudice 

It is caution 

With respect 


It is revering 

Those who lost their lives

And those who sacrificed theirs 

To save others 


It is communities 

Helping communities 

It is one nation 

Indivisible 


It is a line for all 

Patriots, globalists 

All genders, all sexualities 

All races, all creeds 


Every day 

I strive to find the line 

And especially today 

September 11


© Ron Simpson Jr. 

September 11, 2023

Saturday, September 02, 2023

The Obituary of Caring


When caring dies 

It will not be from a gaping wound 

It will not be from a sudden gushing 

It will not be a traumatic event 

It will happen 

From one small cut 

Of a thousand thousand cuts 

The bleeding will be only slight 

But one of those drops 

Will carry the last of caring 


That drop 

Will be indistinguishable 

From the rest of the blood 

Leaving a drop at a time 

It will pass mostly unnoticed 

Until the next time caring is needed 

And there is none to be found 

The last of caring has gone 

In its place is a quiet malaise 


The dull sorrow of human empathy 

As one would feel for a hurting stranger 

Will step into the place caring resided 

A disconnected concern will reign 

Try as one might 

 Concern will not attach 

It will not grow into caring 

It will stand outside the heart 

Its burden, if any, will be carried in the mind 


Memory will provide a proper response 

A dead act for a dead emotion 

Empathy becomes apathy 

Caring becomes concern 

Sorrow becomes sadness 

A shoulder becomes a place for tears 

Rather than a place to share a burden 


Without a place to reside 

The reason is left behind 

The pain leaves the mind 

Nearly as soon as we walk away 

There is no tether 

There is no bond 

Some day before today 


Caring died 

 

© Ron Simpson, Jr.

Revised September 2, 2023


Tuesday, August 08, 2023

Wednesday, June 21, 2023

Time Doesn’t


Time heals all wounds 

Or this is what they say 

This they, who knows these things 

But, they lied about this one 


Time doesn’t 


It has been eighteen years 

Since we lost you suddenly 

Dwelling on this today 

Everything hurts like that day 


My heart is broken afresh 

My eyes cannot contain their tears 

Moving hurts 

Breathing hurts 

Just being hurts 


Time has 

filled my life 

added countless loves 

carried me from then til now 


Time has 

filled my photo albums 

saved precious keepsakes 

made a family 


I cannot disparage time 

For all the things it brought 

However, this one thing 

Time has not healed this wound 


Still 

Time will continue 

Tomorrow brings another opportunity 

Today I will fold this pain 

I will store it deeply inside 


I will give time another chance 

Perhaps, time will heal this wound 

Perhaps not 


Perhaps 

Time doesn’t 


© Ron Simpson Jr. 

June 21, 2023 


Sunday, June 18, 2023

A Thousand Words


A thousand words 

Cascade in my mind 

Trying to form an idea 

And find some cohesion 


For fifty years nearly 

I listened to your words 

And you listened to mine 

In conversation and discussion 

In debate and even arguments 

Neither of us having issues 

Saying how we felt 


Now 

Sixteen years later 

Our conversations 

Are one sided 


Our discussions 

Our debates 

Our arguments 

Are all memories 

Softened by time 

Rehearsed less frequently 


Then today happens 

Father’s Day 


A thousand words

Don’t even begin 

To say how much 

I appreciate all our words 


A thousand words 

Cannot scratch the surface 

Of how much 

I miss our words 


A thousand words, Dad 

To tell you how much 

I miss you 

I love you 

I still need you 


A thousand words 

Are never enough 


Happy Father’s Day 


© Ron Simpson Jr. 

June 18, 2023

Monday, June 12, 2023

Words Which Don’t Fit


Every now and then

I throw together some words

Which rise above the rabble

And turn out pretty fucking amazing


I share them liberally

Because we are all searching

We are looking for recognition

Acceptance in some form or another


We get it most of the time

From our family or close friends

But when our insecurities roar

We are sure it is just obligatory


Then when some random person

From one of dozens of social sites

Tells us our words spoke to them

We get that momentary high


Sometimes, they will rave

Using words like brilliant

Amazing or awesome

We revel in it


But it doesn’t seem to fit


We know we are not

Not brilliant

Not amazing

Not awesome


We live our lives

We see through our eyes

We speak through our lips

We know where we are short


The words don’t fit

They hit us and bounce away

We smile

Even the pain is recognition


Amazing or shit

It doesn’t matter

They are words spoken

About words I’ve written


They are words

Which do not fit

But they are words spoken

About words I’ve written


And that

That’s pretty fucking amazing


© Ron Simpson Jr.