Looking Through A Window
Looking Through A Window
As I walk up Broadway, I find myself looking through a pub window seeing myself, no it can’t be,
I must be looking at a memory, for that’s just not me.
He sits there alone, drink after drink, as the voices get louder within his brain, he speaks. ”Get me another drink bartender”! I must quite these words that spin within my head. Please stop the pain; they will stop talking, I will get stoned.
Twisted and turned, he’s entered the walking dead zone.
Each day he wakes to that moment. “Get me another drink bartender”! Once again, he dreams of finding hope in a bottle, but day after day, everything remains the same.
He thinks to himself. Have I lost my mind, am I going insane? ,
A moment of clarity clears the fog, allows him to see. He knows the bottle brings not change, but leaves him in the dark alone.
As he takes another sip, that gift of clarity vanishes; he’s blinded, his hope continues to die. The drink has stolen all that he loved, leaving him as dry as a bone.
The spiral downward, where death awaits has begun; his spirit is empty and dry, just as his throat until that next sip. All those dreams he once had as a younger man are long in the past, and they to will die.
The drink has taken control and bought the deed to his soul. His thoughts turn to an old friend, suicide.
God speaks quietly, as his thoughts gently enter my mind. He reminds me, but for the grace of God there go I. The sun is shining bright upon where I stand, smiling, I think to myself; grateful am I to be looking through that window from the outside.
William E. Hay
(Copyright 4/15/2012)
