Is there someone in your church under the radar?

A

Alan Heeley

Does it have to be to be this way?

My spirits gone
But my body’s,
left behind to carry on,
Cold , empty worn out
Not enough kindle to light the fire,
Nothing to keep me warm
Echoes fade of past decades,
only yesterday’s
No future planned,
No momentum,
Just sat staring at a declining world,
no enthusiasm to engage…
My mind is wandering through empty rooms
Trying not to recall,
Memories of yesteryear
When life was full of colour
Life was full…
Just sat here alone
Waiting for my turn,
To topple off this earth,
Have I stayed too long?
Did I miss my turn?
And why did my spirit abandon me?
I didn’t ask to get old,
My spirits gone
But my body’s,
left behind, to carry on,
 
Hello Alan;

Work with me here. As I read your poem this thought hit me;

I think of people going in a small poetry lounge and listening to your poem. At the end everyone snaps their fingers because they understand except me. I don't quite understand what you're saying but if you could break it down for me I would appreciate it, brother.

For some reason this came to mind (if you remember) and may have a correlation.

Breathe deep the gathering gloom
Watch lights fade from every room
Bedsitter people look back and lament
Another day's useless energy spent
 
bobinfaith said:
Hello Alan;

Work with me here. As I read your poem this thought hit me;

I think of people going in a small poetry lounge and listening to your poem. At the end everyone snaps their fingers because they understand except me. I don't quite understand what you're saying but if you could break it down for me I would appreciate it, brother.

For some reason this came to mind (if you remember) and may have a correlation.

Breathe deep the gathering gloom
Watch lights fade from every room
Bedsitter people look back and lament
Another day's useless energy spent
Click to expand...
I’ll have a go to explainwhere I was coming from when I wrote Does it have to be to be this way?
this poem is a result of having a ‘day dream’
My mind wandered in to ‘seeing’ an old guy coming to church every week, except for the front door greeters ( not even the church mice gets by them without a “hello”)
He came in to church and it was as if there was a force field around him, in service coffee out without talking nobody came near, he looked so lonely in a crowded room
‘ I saw’ myself trying to talk to him, and it was wasn’t easy to get him to share, finding out that the widowed gent living alone no family close by
Felt that he had been forgotten a waste of space
His life consists of going to church on a Sunday and waking up every morning finding that today wasn’t the day he was going to heaven,
Maybe tomorrow…
I ‘saw’ his eyes were lifeless he never told of his wife, children, what he did for a job, as if a great tragedy had occurred in his life and he didn’t want to remember any more
But no, just ‘Mr Average’ anonymously passing through…time had passed and life had taken its toll and there was no spirit or spark left
Was this dream based on fact a flight of fantasy poetic licence or quotes from several conversations with the older members of our church, personal experience may be a bit of all of them?
Not easy getting old and some people some grow old disgracefully, some celebrate but some struggle, want to forget and learn just to exist.
Short poem, long explanation hope this helps
Alan H
 
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