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fictionary… 8 megapixel artist… bloody awful poet.

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I Raised a Generation

road png

This is my end.  

I raised a generation,

and now look back upon it. 

I raised a generation,

and the next in line to come;

beautiful,

and free from my spotted past. 

And in seeing,

think only that it is to this generation,

and the next,

that I am tied forever. 

One decision,

made so long ago,

that its beginning seems eternal. 

By one decision,

I am now grounded to this earth,

to this very spot on which I stand,

for the rest of my obligation of days. 

I will go nowhere. 

I will not find pleasure,

as a reward for years spent in hopeless,

loving duty,

but in dedication to my craft,

and to my legacy,

this generation,

and the next in line to come. 

This is my end. 

I raised a generation,

and if I am lucky,

one day,

I will know my place,

beneath this ground on which I stand.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

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30 Days of Night: #NaBloPoMo on the Graveyard Shift

30-days-pngIt’s been one year.

Three-hundred-sixty-five days, plus one leap day, and a couple thousand cups of coffee, since the last time I stared November in the face. 

And the first time November stared right back.

One year ago tonight, I got lost in something so frightening that, until I lived to see the end of it, I had always been too shaken by the very idea to even let myself speak its name.

NaBloPoMo.

To be asked, no… forced, to go through an experience so life-altering that some I once called friends never recovered.  Just 30 days on a calendar that, coincidentally, begin in the still quiet hours of All Hallows Eve.  When deals are done with whatever tells grown men and women that everything will be okay, if they just keep their hands and feet tucked inside the covers at night.

The name that, if you’re a writer, you know.

NaBloPoMo.  The writer’s boogeyman.

And every writer knows that, on All Hallows Eve, you can’t kill the boogeyman.

So here I am, one year later, and the boogeyman is back.  Only this time, he only comes out at night.  This year, very unlike last year, the world… my world… is lived from dusk till dawn.  And I write for the boogeyman on the graveyard shift, in November, during 30 days of night.

And for those of you who write in the safety of the day, NaBloPoMo is just another word.  Like sunshine, or coffee.  But for those of us who live to write at night, well…

It’s waiting.

 

*for a Facebook LIVE reading of this post, CLICK HERE.

 

© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday    

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