Poetry

I feel that most people start writing because of some need to get the things inside out. I began to write based on a tragedy that changed me in more ways than I could handle. I started in 1991 to write poems to express the lose of a loved one. I was a staff sergeant in the US Air Force and gay so I kept most folks at arms length for my own protection.   Tim was the most annoying person I had ever met and he would not take no as an answer. I don't have any clear memories of that time as it was prior to my TBI, but I can see the pain I was in from old writings I had from that time. He was a civilian and didn't understand why I refused what he offered. I finally allowed him into my life and it was the happiest decision I had ever made. This was written after he killed himself.

On this day, Oct 10 1991, Timothy Joseph Hanson took his on life by parking his car on the train tracks near his mothers home in Sioux City, Iowa. The phone call upset me so much that in fine Roman tradition I killed the messenger by slamming the phone partway into the cinder block wall. I, also, smoked my very first cigarette that day with the civilian AFETS. It was the most horrible day imaginable. Within a month I was headed to Woomera,SA where I would meet some very wonderful people. The feeling of lose never goes away. The feeling that I should have been able to prevent it does not fade. More importantly the anger at this person who said they loved me but chose to leave me never goes away. It grows.

Season of Sleep

The world is growing cold with the

Approach of winter.

It is time for the trees to go to sleep for now

And you, my love, to go to sleep forever.

You who were the fountain of beautiful

Chaos in my life, are now gone.

I do not know how to tell you good-bye

Nor can I properly express the depth

Of emotion to which you are attached.

I will never be the same for this.

The golden leaves fall from the trees and remind

Me of another time when you and I drove through the

City filled with the grief for another lost friend.

That time is gone, now it is I driving

Alone in waves of pain.

How do these things happen?

Who is it that decides on this horror?

I thought I knew, but I am more confused.

So, the trees will sleep and so shall you.

The only difference is that they shall rise in the spring,

But you, my love, will not.