Ain't No Shame, It Happens

At the snap of a lightning crack
You fell down
Who can pick you up
It's a bird fall
Hitting the earth with a big thump
Can you wipe the mud off your face
To me you're no disgrace
It happens to the best of us
It's hard to fly with a broken wing
With a broken heart
Not much strength to try too
Once you sang
Waking everyone up to the morning
Now it's hard to explain
That's when death seems better than life
It's the life that created the death
But it's this death that will create new life

I know you just want to be alone
Maybe that's better for you
I just want you to know
I'm not better than you
I'm not blind to see
    What has happened to you
    Could have happened to me

You don't need someone
    to tell you to tie your shoes
Don't need to be told
    To wash behind your ears
I wouldn't do that to you

I've had my deaths
Had my new births
Each time
Living a different way
I can't swear to anyone
I won't go through that again

Though the shoes I wear
May be different than yours
I wear shoes too

To talk to someone who will just listen
Can get a derailed train on track
So here I am
If you want to tell me about it

By:  Roger Harkness

I wrote this poem while I served aboard the USS Suribachi, an Ammo ship, sometime between 1979 and 1981. I wrote this for my father and I can't remember if I shared this with him or not, but I probably did.

I wrote my father several letters throughout my younger years and he would never answer them and it hurt and he doesn't know how bad that hurt, because I loved him, and he does not know how much I loved him.

My father did some things that were wrong and my dad had a lot of bad things done to him and I always thought him to be a good man, but like most of us, a sin that cannot allow to rule us, he could not admit that he did anything wrong, he could not say he was sorry. Two words (I'm sorry) that could have changed everything I believed. No, what my father did was first claim that he was an alcoholic and did things he couldn't help, and then it was allergies, and lastly he claimed to be manic depressive and it was just a couple years after that he died of a lung disease he never knew he had. I had already disowned him, because he was always judging me when he should have been telling me he was sorry. When I visited him he felt he had to read the bible to me hoping that I too would go to heaven. That's the way it works, when you do something wrong to another and you cannot admit that you did anything wrong, you will then turn it around in your defense and pretend that the other person was wrong.

After my father died, I had a dream that he was calling me on the telephone telling me I had to be more forgiving. And I almost fell for it, praying to God I said, you know my dad might be right and then it occurred to me, wait a minute, why am I wrong, he is the one who hasn't apologized, you can't forgive someone until they say they are sorry.


You are free to print, copy or publish any of my poems for education and or charity without my permission (but - send me a note if you have the time). You are not free to print, copy or publish any of my poems for profit without my written consent. You may link my poetry to your website freely without my consent (but if you do, an email would be nice).  Always be sure to give credit to the author Roger Harkness.