I’m leaving this here because I think now
is a good time to get ready and move on to the next one.
As for now, today is Memorial Day, May 29, 2023

I found myself on a post-sunrise drive,
heading inbound and over the George Washington Bridge,
once more, and making my way over the Hudson
while the morning sun left its shades of orange
on the face of the tall buildings.

It’s a pretty picture to think about
My City in the quiet of morning
I have been making this trip into the City for decades now,
and from either side of town or the other,
in any direction, whether Uptown or Downtown, Eastside or West,
there is something perfect about her to me.

I come back here, to this spot,
which is what I consider to be
the re-birthplace of self,
to where it begins and ends
and to where the cycles of life unfold
and then fold over once more.

I came back here to this place,
where I begin my ending,
and more to the point,
this is where I ready myself
for the new chapters ahead of me.

I suppose this was brought on by a dose of nostalgia.
This thought. This idea. I sip from my coffee,
breathe in and out
and then I sigh with an exhale before I begin.

The screen in front of my face is white and empty
but this is the one place I know
where I can come, which is open to me
and open to my interpretation,
and like the world at morning time,
fresh from the new sunrise;
Mother Earth is waiting, as if to say,

“Come on, son. We have work to do.”

To each their own and there we go,
each of us, going off in our own direction
and heading out,
on our way, separate from the crowd and unlike the others
because unlike the masses,
people like us want more than just another trip around the sun.

I know I do . . .

I want more than the usual and more
than the mediocre blasts you see on social media
to act out loud
or to act as if and say
hey world, look at me –
please accept me
or tell me
I’m good . . .

I walked alone during the early morning sunrise,
knowing full and well that walks like this
would be coming to an end.
We were approaching summer,
the year was 2015

I knew that while my reason for this trip
was to settle the affairs of my dying Mother,
that times were moving and that, in fact,
times must, will and do change.

I’m not sure when this was.
A long time ago, I suppose.
This must’ve been
but when, I don’t remember.

It must have been a realization which came in waves,
like the rides, rolling in and changing the face of the sands,
eroding the coast of life
and redefining the way I saw things.

There’s a word I hear all the time.
It’s a thing too, a way to be,
and maybe even a lesson for others or an artform of living.
The word is called selfless
As in, no concern for self
It’s not about “Me.”
There’s no “I”
Selfless
As in no need for repayment

As in without regard for self or reward
As in unconditional, no strings attached.
No pat on the back, no award ceremonies
or any kind of accolades.

So, I have been me for a very long time. In fact, I have been me, all of my life, since the day I was born.
Surprising, right?
I know . . .
It’s a shocker.

However, I have also lived my life a certain way for a very long time and with no regrets on this choice, I understand that my choice of living is something that suits me.

I’m not ready to let this journal end, at least not yet. But more importantly
and more for you to understand, this is my reach from a place here in fact,
I have either been held captive or been set free.

In part, my efforts are to explain ideas and thoughts and with hopes
to create a vision or something you can touch or hold and understand, I began
this journey to write my way into your heart and mind,
to help me understand life and, along the way, I hope to help people understand life,
which is currently going on, all around us.

Can’t you see it?
It’s right outside our door . . .
Life ~

(Written respectfully for the McGinley Family)

Thank you for teaching me –

I come from this. I am this and because I am,
I want to be this
especially to the best of my ability because
behold the worker,
the doer, the prime mover of the world
the one who aches and hurts yet
regardless of time or the weight upon their shoulders
because of them,
the gears of this world still turn because, in fact,
it’s us, the breed of us,
the workers and the working-class
who turn the wheels
and make this factory go round

I want to be this –