Faces

Faces 

By John R. Greenwood

"Chaz"

faces pass us by every day

some fade from view

others

cling to us for a lifetime

eyes filled to the brim

with wonder

and grace

a photo drops from an envelope

landing face up

his energy 

still speaks volumes

there are voids never filled

songs never sung

stories left unwritten 

but certain faces remain 

vivid in spirit

strong in character

always fresh as yesterday

pushing us to live for today

don’t cry

"fly"

Written in honor and memoriam of Charles E. “Chaz” Dake 

Who Am I To Complain

Who Am I To Complain 

By John R.Greenwood

Who am I to complain about taxes, burnt toast or a flat tire? Life is different for all of us. Blind to the man who’s shoes I’ve never worn I silence myself and fold my hands in prayer. I thank my stars, the lucky ones and others for the minor inconveniences I must endure. A cup of coffee gone cold or an achy knee meet no criteria for complaint. I worked hard all my life and I’ve enjoyed the rewards of showing up on time for forty years, but I’ve also been fortunate in love and in health. Not everyone can say the same. Hard times and heavy baggage sometime catch up with people. Addictions and short straws take their toll. I cringe when friends and neighbors moan about traffic or rain in the forecast. Be grateful I say, for the road can be cut short for some. I’m present and accounted for. I’m able to sit here in my warm home with all my worldly goods sandwiched between an attic and cellar. My refrigerator is bulging along with my midsection. I am a happy American. Trump can kiss my cholesterol, American is as great as it ever was, it’s the occupants that need sprucing up. We need to shut up and straighten up. Let’s stop the bickering and pomposity. Most importantly let’s stop blanketing our children with ways to skirt responsibility. Let’s look in the mirror instead and see if we can’t adjust what we see looking back. Take that index finger you all love to point at others and aim it toward the heavens and thank whoever it is you see up there. 

When the couple in the photo walked past me I stopped and took a deep breath. I tilted my head back and looked in the rearview mirror. I couldn’t hear what the person looking back at me said but I did read his lips. He grasped his forehead with his right hand and mouthed the words clearly, “Who am I to complain.” 

Time

Time

By John R. Greenwood

We were teenagers. Time was on our side. Life was in its infancy for us. Hands held then and now always familiar, always automatic. Time keeps ticking adding days together one on top of the other, the stack so high you can see for miles. Children, broken cars and power bills swirl around tossing a sight or sound into the air for us to grab when needed. Coupled as one we’ve always gone north when others swarmed south, never feeling comfortable to mingle amongst a crowd. Support comes and goes when summoned, the words never needing to be spoken. She shows up standing there, knowing—caring—understanding. Imperfect as any life long relationship might be, it’s ours alone. 

I’ve had time to think about it. The answer always comes back to me when a disagreement swells. “What would I be without her?” 

Lost, I’d be lost at sea. Left to my own accord, my decisions always faint from the lack of thought, I would have sunk to the bottom or floated away, sail-less, drifting through life with no wind, nobody to spend my time with. 

Time and love have been by my side.