Innocence LostA Poem by Pete "Through our own recovered innocence we discern the innocence of our neighbors." - Thoreau  I remember the first time I heard the neighborhood kids using strange words I had never heard before with an angry, sarcastic tone. I remember one of them extending a middle finger upward and waving it. I remember thinking it odd. Being awed. Victim of fraud. I remember in sixth grade when a boy said he liked "smoking weed". The only thing I knew about weeds was that my father hated them in the yard and pulled them out. I remember my first junior high school dance. Standing in the corner in the dark. Listening to 'Stairway to Heaven'. Waiting for the day when I would ascend one. I remember teenage friends saying they had, "Done it." Not knowing what "it" was. I remember them saying they had made it to first, second or third base. Not understanding that it wasn't baseball they were talking about. I remember watching T.V. and having to figure it out. I remember asking my mother why people lie. If it caused them to die. I remember handing her clothespins while she hung laundry outside on the line. I remember asking her why we didn't have a dryer. I remember playing 'guns' in the woods, building a treehouse and not getting why it was so much fun or so fleeting. That was long before they cut down all the trees and built more houses. I remember when I joined the Marine Corps. Hoping for more. Looking for a way out of a dysfunctional home and dead end town. 'Til I realized I held the power in my hands to take someone's life. I remember the nuns telling me to repent and confess. Long before my soul was a mess. I remember not laughing when everyone else was and laughing when everyone else wasn't. I remember crying and bending down for a stray dog that had been hit by a car. I remember when I stood firm with a clenched fist and didn't waver. I remember being granted favor. Savoring the flavor. I remember who I was. Just because. I remember a lot. Now, my father is in a wheelchair and wears a diaper. My mother stone-deaf and feeble. Yeah, I remember alright. I remember when my soul was intact. Until my life's essence was attacked. I owed my maker a debt. Before the damned world made me forget ...  © 2021 PeteAuthor's Note
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Added on October 29, 2018Last Updated on January 29, 2021 Author
PeteBoston, MAAboutI love reading, writing, music, nature, God and feeling emotion, not necessarily in that order. To me, these things go hand in hand. My favorite writer is Henry David Thoreau. I think he was a geni.. more..Writing
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