Tick Tock

By Chip Williford

What of our lives would we make If only we knew how many breaths we had left to take?

With each and every single tick of the clock we survive Is another tick we should rejoice for being alive.

If we knew how many more breaths we had to take of what of our lives, and our legacy would we make”

To love, to give, and to share the light, To embrace another chance to make things right?

To how many would we say I’m sorry?

To whom would we choose to forgive?

How different would our life’s choices be if we only knew how long we had left to live?

Maybe we wouldn’t take our blessings for granted

Or easily forget those who helped us in our journey

Nor would we neglect to care for the seeds we’ve planted

Of what of our lives and our legacy would we make If only we knew how many breaths we had left to take?

What lessons can we really learn?

Who would we want to keep close?

From whom would we refrain?

What would we change, give up, lose, and burn?

How would we choose which passions are still worth the yearn?

How would we spend our time?

Where would we go?

Truth is

We may not ever know

Are you so confident you can say, each second you remain

Without regrets, doubt and shame

You would continue to live your life the same?

Tick Tock

Thoughts of a Mongoose

by Chip Williford

Beware of the poison that's found in the whispering meadows of flowering lies

Restricted by hovering hills, closely watched by luminous skies

The spreading of daffodils and seeds of dandelion

Naively playing wild games of nature tamed only by design.

Mused by the sun's bright rays; a reflection unkind

Clouds waltz their way

Shadowing the trap of the mischievous thoughts of the mongoose

“Prey”

As persnickety as the wind blows the perfume of danger and escape: the harvest spray

While baby monkeys cling tightly to their mother's lap

Shame is not mine to own - From a child’s voice

By Chip Williford

I was the littlest

The last of five

At the time

I stood silent

Quietly in line

On my face

Fright for the ages

With a wide-eyed side long stare at my big brother

And a fluttery ache in my belly

Yeah, I stood in that line

I stood there wearing my lucky yellow shirt

Wrinkled trembling sleeves and bell bottoms

Shaking like a leaf Inside

Outside frozen

Perfectly still, I stood

All the time just wanting to run away and hide with my big brother at my side

I was eight, and this lineup was the routine when you did something wrong

Like not doing your chores or not doing what you’re told to do when told

And especially

Looking like you kinda want to talk back

Come on, I know our family was not the only one

But really, is there any reason to hit, whip, beat, or strike a child

Normalizing and perpetuating it as if it were an heirloom?

Eight years old I was

Lined up from the oldest to the youngest …Me!

After the “Speech”, delivered almost as long as Sunday’s sermon

Came the beckoning of the hand

Pointing out exactly where to stand

First, my eldest brother stood in the designated spot

Stoic, and still, like an ironing board

Dreadfully I watched in endless ache

As he like an hungry crocodile clenched his teeth as though his very pride was at stake

Relentlessly, holding on for way too long

Think so wrong

Twisted take

Aggravate

Instigate

Sure to make more blows to flow

Harder and harder

The tears did choke behind the levy until he broke

His head did fall

With nothing at all to say

Feeling hurt, shame and defeated he walked away

Sparing not

Within fingers reach I watched each of my siblings slowly walk from the line to the spot

A Docile Stare

Her hand outstretched

Without a sound

A single tear raced down

Taken by hand

Firmly held

Jerking which and every way

What?  Nothing could we say. Okay!

Belt, extension cord, leather strap

Diverse switches braided with care

Struck my sister

Who didn’t break

Her docile stare

One by one, I saw them walk off

Sniffling in gloom

Alone to our shared double bunk beds single room

I was eight

Now holding my behind

It being my turn

Anticipation the burn

Alone, I walked from the line to the spot I was told to stand

Like dark seas I disappeared in memories

Sank into sand

And just like the rest of my siblings

I too slowly extended my hand

Regardless of what I’ve been shown

Today I know

Shame is not mine to own