Dear Santa…

I’m writing this year a little differently than the last.  When we did this before, a poem written fast.  A lot has gone on, since the time before, and I hope that this year’s miracles are granted some more.  The family has moved in a home that was here, but done so in haste, due to Freddie Mac early this year.  The budget is stretched much further than before, but I have the same job with the company I adore.  But due to the changes, with our rent amount that soared, there’s no surplus for some basics, my account is so chored.  And now here at Christmas, though presents aren’t the need, it’s a want that any person would want far from greed.  My family’s the best, and I cherish them so; to give them that special gift all wrapped in nice bows.  Aside from some gifts, or some cards they can use, I’m asking for something special that I simply can’t lose.  Six months or so ago, I found out some news.  “Tom you have lost some sight, and a privilege you lose!”  I now cannot drive, my dependency back, to buses and people to transport the track.  And now I’m not certain how long what’s here lasts, I’m scared and I’m shaking, inside my fear casts.  Please Santa, please help me!  I can’t lose this fight!  Please Santa, oh Santa, I can’t lose my sight.  On top of the previous, I have one more wish – a promotion that would afford me – one favorite dish.  This letter’s for them, not really for me, but I hope you’ll consider these things to help me.  As always, a thank you, and a good sense of cheer.  Merry Christmas, dear Santa, and Happy New Year!


Russian Roulette

Wandering through life.  Day-to-day solace; engulfed within the confines of the “now” destiny.  Seeing, yet, not seeing; realities amongst us….wandering further only to find another dead-end-moment-of-now.  Jumping, yet, landing on both feet; or maybe it’s only the tips of toes that allow us to spring carefully onto the next pebble; stepping stones of our existence…figuring out the next move.  A game of chess; chance or pure intellectual strategy that leads one to victory?  One bullet…many chances…trying to make it through.  One pull…a click…and then it’s time to go again.

Fumbling through and falling out of step; crashing, but not burning.  A suffering unlike no other, because no one understands what it is to be you.  To dance…to love…to live, yet, not feel dead inside.  Not yet!  It’s not your time!  But then, what’s next?  Looking around the corner; anxious and unknowingly naive to the forgotten.  Souls staggering about; heart racing…pounding…louder….LOUDER!!!!  Adrenaline is the fuel for existence.  Caffeine is the drug to awaken.  jittery existence as you hold on tight.  One bullet…many chances…trying to make it through.  One pull…CLICK…time to give it another go.

Vanishing in the shadows.  Your own smokescreen haze that’s in place to hide behind.  No one knows.  No one can see your truth.  Only you know what’s next…at least, right now.  It’s hard to believe that you can do it this long.  This hard….determination rules your spirit; nothing touches the daily stride you take.  Briskly…swiftly…strategically….each step not like the first.  Tap….tap….quiet now…in stealth you are safe from everything and everyone.  Everyone can hear but not see; they only think they have been there, but they have no idea.  One bullet…many chances…trying to make it through.  One pull…a click…sweating now…time to go again.

Feeling unstoppable…invincible…INCREDIBLE!!!!  Treading the waters one day at a time.  The water is cold, it slows your body, but keeps it alive…just barely…enough to keep feeling.  Head above water…just enough.  Breathing still…moving an inch at a time.  The light is just ahead.  Triumph is near.  No one will take it from you!  A moment well-deserved and fought for.  Embraced…enveloped…emerged.

One bullet…many chances…trying to make it through.  One pull…

`Tom Chancy