The surgery...

My wonderful new son, limited by a flaw in his genes.
So beautiful and happy, always loving and sweet.
Soon, a single day away, the surgery is almost here.
Serenely unaware of what he is going to go through.
We have been preparing, packing, readying ourselves.
Mentally, we try not to allow our fears to take hold.
I have already cried my tears, banished my turmoil.
I center myself so I can be what my love will need.
She needs my strength, my calm, my inner resolve.
He needs my attention, my support, and my care.
The one thing they both need is my sincere love.
That I can give in spades, I love them so very much.
In the end I can only give it my all for my family.
I hope for the good, but I am prepared for anything.

A new poem of ADHD

As I sit here in the early morning, I struggle with myself again.

Not in a way that others would understand or even recognize.

This is a struggle from within, with the enemy being my mind.

You see I forget or become distracted, and I cannot concentrate.

Why you might ask? That answer would be my ADHD/ADD.

I am not medicated you see, meaning I am SO very screwed.

Imagine having a plan or just trying to keep a train of thought.

Now continue this imagining, if you will, but throw in a twist.

What if your thoughts drifted at the slightest whim or cause.

Listen to your surroundings, observe it for a minute or two.

A click of a spoon on a mug, the cry of a bird, even an itch.

Anything noticed in that brief span will grab my attention.

I will become distracted and whatever it is, does not matter.

An example which I hope I can illustrate for you, the reader.

Is my morning thus far, my attempt to simply write this poem.

I have been 4 hours trying to keep my focus on these words.

But yet I have dealt with everything but what I had intended.

I have called the insurance, the school district, and my family.

My thoughts wander to my love and a talk we are to have later.

Plans for the house and deposit, writing for Kristin's brother.

Missing my kids, doing cleanup, getting exercise for the day.

All of this goes through my head while trying to keep writing.

My creative process is at best disjointed, at worst nonexistent.

I think the most difficult thing to live with, is the pain I cause.

My wife-to-be suffers through my absent minded behavior.

She tries to be patient, dealing with my partial conversations.

She listens to me say one thing when I mean something else.

Hears me start on a subject only to have me drift to another.

Or I might speak on a subject we have talked about already.

I cannot imagine what that would be like, to be around that.

My frustration is with knowing this and not able to correct it.

I am not sure what to do, as even medicated it still shows up.

Granted it is nowhere near as bad when I am on medication.

But, I am haunted still by the daily issues that arise from it.

So, that is my trial with ADHD and how it destroys my life.

My morning....

I awake to the sounds of an angel calling my name.

I feel the warmth of her form next to me, I smile.

My heart lays sleeping, her breath coming softly.

As quiet as a 200 pound blind and arthritic mouse.

I kiss her gently on the cheek before I sneak away.

Heading to the room where the angel calls my name.

I think about how many people can't see what I do.

Others, wonder how one can endure such a situation.

For me, this morning is another a dream come true.

As I open the door I am greeted with a smiling face.

“HEAWO!” he says grinning as I gather him up.

He crawls up in his chair, I go through the routine.

At the end he is fed, medicated, changed and happy.

This is my life, I am so happy to be able to have it.

A new poem, very dark and grim but with hope.

It begins, pain racing outward a white hot sheet of sensation.

I struggle with the daily trial by combat my mind must wage.

The shock cascades through my form overwhelming my senses.

I begin to buckle under the ambush, silently I fight on, and I must.

Awash in this climax of agony, motion and awareness my enemy.

My stomach churns as I see the world behind a storm of fireflies.

The hurt threatens to drown me, with no hope of blissful release.

As the wave passes through my legs, leaving them cold and numb.

Only the throbbing ache remains as I recover to wage war again.

I worry sometimes that I will fall, what if some day I cannot go on?

I hope I am never weak enough to give in, to stop fighting as I do.

Most never see my distress nor would understand why I endure.

I will allow no one will take this from me or treat me as a cripple.

I will not bitch and moan as everyone has a personal pain to bear.

I AM a man, I will battle with this for my duration or until I break.

I only pity those who will give in to the pressure and not move on.

But I will always pay this price gladly, for the single step of a stair.