Innocence LostA Poem by Re-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 Re-PeteAuthor's Note
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Added on October 29, 2018Last Updated on January 29, 2021 Author
Re-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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