I suppose my story’s no different than countless others,
except for one small detail...I survived. And regardless
of what others may tell you...it was war. No, not the kind fought
with laser guided bombs and cruise missiles, but something
much more personal, and if you’re the religious type,
maybe even holy. A war fought in family rec. rooms,
high school lobbies, and ultimately, the hospital ER.

Oh sure, you’ve seen the stars on Entertainment Tonight
flash across your TV screen endless times, blubbering about
their thousand dollar a day Crack or Heroin habits,
and how they eventually beat their demons. You’re also told
about the ones who don’t survive. Unfortunately, what they tend
to leave out are the finer details. War is war however,
and those who survive usually don’t like to talk about it.
That’s where I come in. Being a poet has its privileges
and responsibilities. Maybe that’s why the ‘powers that be’
deemed I should survive. For the uninitiated,
a poet is basically a story teller, with a little passion
and emotion mixed in for good measure.
Something you won’t see on ET; “Just the facts ma’am.”

As for the war, I was on the front line. How I ended up there
is the easy part. Any fool can toke on a joint, pop a pill,
snort powder, or if they look hard enough, find a set of works,
and start cranking. As the saying goes, “if there’s a will,
there’s a way.” Why, on the other hand is a little more complex.
Looking back now, in my own case, the obvious reason
was boredom. Sick of school, tired of my parents’ rules.
The lure of something different...exciting.
I wanted to change my life. Boy, what an understatement!
But I’m only skimming the surface. Millions of kids
feel the same way, but only a handful in comparison
turn toward ‘the dark side.’ No, looking back now,
there was something deeper, just beyond what our minds
are capable of grasping. What is certain, no matter who or what
chooses the path each of us is to travel, we ourselves
are ultimately responsible for what happens there.
The only other certainty...the war continues;
fresh casualties for the ERs...and morgues.


© 1999

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05/04/2015

Author's Note: The opening piece in Along The Vertical Horizon. Mother Sky follows as the first poem in the collection.

Posted on 05/04/2015
Copyright © 2024 Chris Sorrenti