I Wanted to Go Back to See

    I wanted to go back to see, if there was something for me.

    I wanted to go back to know, where the poor people go.

    I wanted to go back and find, that we are all of one mind.

    

    I went back to see, (Chile), that there was someone for me.

    I went back to know (Angol) where my poor people flow.

    I went back to find (Mulchen), that there people of our kind.

    This has a tune, will be a song.

    Perhaps.

    

    Some day.

    Will I go back again?

    The land of Pitrufquen.

 I Wanted to Write You a Love Song

    Barbara's book passage of the snake killing Ruth made me cry. Kingsolver is a potent, poignant writer.

    Let me compose.

    I think of z...

    Lost it. My train of thought for the above. Started last night.

    Well. What could it have been/

 Rob. The Song and Tunes Get Lost. Like Time, Associations.

    I had it pretty well Sunday morning.

    But then the words, the tunes, some of the ideas and sentiments, got diffused and dissipated.

    Can I or someone capture them again?

    I saw the sun on the windows at church, thinking of Rob and the shooting range, and I teared up and cried.

    A big part of my Sunday experience in the last twenty years has been mixing soldier time, God, and the things of the range and the trucks and the orders.

    Cleaning, too.

    Thanks, Micah.

    I liked your suit.

 Used to Non-Belief

I am used to people not believing in me.

My folks, my siblings, my friends.

My mates at work, others here or there.

I believe God believes in me.

But I can be the worst enemy to Him and me.

We must continue to believe.

Press on.

 Rejection, Feelings

Some times we can feel rejected, alone.

Worse than loneliness, we can be feel left out.

Forsaken or abandoned.

Not great feelings.

Maybe the others feel you are needy, or are fragile and need to be coddled. Babied.

Maybe so.

Maybe we carry those feelings of rejection, fragility, from when we are young

It doesn’t help when there are patterns of rejection.

There are patterns.

At times apathy, frustration, confusion, I guess depression or sadness, can be the over riding sentiment.

Sure.

They do not like us, can be the thing.

Or what we do, what we share, what we contribute.

Oh well.

C’est la vie.

Someone cares. Maybe not the ones you want to.

Patterns. Patterns that I am used to.

Get used to it. 

Robert. A Song. Memories and Thoughts. Post Life Analysis

    The tunes and threads of this piece I thought of humming or conveying to my daughter in Colorado. I hope I hold on to the melodies or notes, either way.

    Robert

    You were my friend.

    I knew you in the time, when you were young.

    I was younger, but never like you.

    Accomplished soldier, I knew you when 

    

    We were on the range of... life.

    I met you there,

    A sunny afternoon, likely November.

    A range of targets and qualifications.

    You, like me studied Arabic.

    But unlike me, you excelled in testing.

    Robert! Why did you leave so fast?

    What was it brother? How did you come to such a fate?

    Why, how come the pain was too much for you?

    Why the letter, why the words of: the end.

    You wrote it before your ultimate demise.

    And that of your fathers.

    I approach those ages of your dad now.

    Me, in the gathering later years.

    I was older, I fancied myself a little bit of a father figure.

    Alas. His dad died, suddenly, December 2015.

    (I lost the tune). (I must regroup.)

    Part One, Etched in Time for now. 

    Robert.... I will revisit...

 To Feel Superior. It Comes the Other Way

    I know what it feels like to feel superior.

    " I do the work."

    "I know what to do."

    "They have no clue, they do not care. I do."

    "If not for me, no one would do it."

    "I do not know what exactly is wrong with them, what their damage is, but I am the remaining voice of responsibility and action."

    "I stand before the mayhem of apathy or inaction."

    "If not for me, no one would do the right thing."

    "I know what to do, and I do it."

    Likely, more often, I am on the other end of it.

    What else do I like? These books. These shows. These games. A blog post.

    I have some of it.

    We feel it both ways.

    Experience.