That Which Longs to be Said

The bee is not burdened with indecision.

It does what it does, pollinating among the

Flowers with no doubt or hesitation, its

Honey, a gift to the world. The fox depends

Upon its stealth and cunning. Most of its

Business is done under the cover of darkness,

Receiving neither criticism nor praise for its

Failures or successes. Christopher, at day’s

End you empty your pockets to lie down with

More questions than answers. Dreams help

Some, but there is a great deal missing in the

Interpretation. You have come this far not by

Favor or merit, neither based upon your wit

Nor talent, but by a random avoidance of

The number assigned you at birth. The lottery

Of life is unfairly played with a short breath

And a scant heartbeat each second of every day.

Face the reality of it all, your hill climbing days

Are over. The limping and hunched shoulders,

The twisted scowl of pain indelibly etched into

Your face tell you that the past has a hefty and

Cumbersome weight. And here you are, neither

Fox nor bee, fortunate nonetheless, able to say

In abiding words that which longs to be said.

Chris Hanch 10-26-16

Choices and Chance

I don’t suppose my father ever saw it coming.

Had mother a clue, she may have stayed home

Instead of attending the dance. Everyone takes their

Chances, and is left to live with the consequences.

In the supermarket of life there are many choices:

Some prefer the generic; others will settle for

Nothing less than the brand-name best. The runaway

Train misses you by seconds and your best friend

Winds up at the wrong place in time. Father had his

Dreams; mother saw things completely differently.

There are no winners in that scenario. You buy a

Ticket expecting a lighthearted comedy and live

Through a wide-screen, 3D horror film instead. Shit

Happens, and you deal with it. Somehow I’ve managed

To make it this far heading into my seventieth year of

This fairytale. I too opted to attend the dance on a day

I would have been better off staying home. Today, I find

Myself eating dinner alone off a mishmash assortment

Of bowls and plates. Father lived into his eighty-ninth

Year, and my guess is he never saw it coming.

Chris Hanch 10-6-16

Some Sagacious Advise

Had you asked me when I was seventeen about

that which was central to my life at that time, I may

have discussed my views of the future—a job or

career, women, friendships, cars and the like.

Had you asked me the same, when as an adult in my

twenties or thirties, I would have included marriage,

children and a home for family. I certainly would have

maintained my concerns over job, career and cars.

Of course priorities change as we age. Topics such as

politics, cost of living, health, income, taxes and savings,

education, relationships and family, recycling and global

warming enter into the priorities which tend to become

more germane or weightier on the psyche.

At age 60, 70 or 80 many of the challenges and questions

we may have entertained in our more vital and productive

years have gone the way of muscle, mental acumen, physical

desires and dependence on the material. (It is now too late to

summit Mt. Everest, and the train to greatness has long ago

left the station.)

So, for many of us who have survived the rigorous tests of

time, it has come to this—most of our needs have either already

been met, spent or surrendered due to physical or mental

diminution. Some may look back at the sordid freak-show

profundity of their existence, and apply a more gracious and

sagacious tenor about life.

I have given a good deal of consideration about my particular

situation and personal experience. You may ask, is there any

sound advise I would impart to the young folks just beginning

their journey into the great unknown? Yes, indeed there is—

I would recommend trying peanut butter and the chocolate chip

ice cream before bed. Not together, of course, nor at the same

time. Oh, and consider getting rid of the car: Your eyesight and

reactions aren’t what they used to be; and the car has always

been a royal pain in the ass.

Chris Hanch 10-2-16

Once Upon a Time...

Wolves and witches. As children we were told

Fables and fairy tales. We learned that some

Stories do not end well. Indeed, life has proven

To have its princesses and ogres. Face it, glass

Slippers are a perfect fit for some; and most

Could live a 100-years and never own a goose

Which lays golden eggs. Few grow up these

Days to become knights in shining armor or

To marry Prince Charming and live happily

Ever after. Nowadays many children are

Exposed to computer and smart phone technology.

Social media has for them become the new wave

For learning and escape. Call me old school, if

You will. That’s okay. I have earned my degree.

I often still rely upon following the trail of bread

Crumbs I’ve scattered on the forest floor which

Has always served to help me find my way home.

Kids today seem to believe that GPS is the only way

To get from here to there. And young ones beware,

There will always be wolves in sheep’s clothing.

Chris Hanch 9-30-16

Memories

Memories—We all lose bits and pieces

Of past lives as we age. Memories—

The recall of names, places and

Experiences fade or seem to dis-

Appear with time. I am no exception

To this process. Memories—Oh, you

Know that actor, British guy who

Starred in that movie...You know...

Memories—My brother reminding me

On the phone the other day about

Us being refused service at a local

Restaurant in1960 when we were

Kids because we had a black friend

With us visiting for the day. Memories—

Polished opals and shards of glass

We carry with us as through the rest

Of our days. Memories—Some forgotten

Sparks of brain which continue to be

Blurred behind the foggy window of

Time. Memories—Ballast amassed

In muscle and bone which reshapes

The body in our old age. Memories—

Recollected or forgotten, that

Forming substance which compresses

The body, which lines and sags the face.

Memories—with us to the grave.

Chris Hanch 9-21-16

Body Politc

It is all right if the politician makes promices

He does not intend to keep. All of us have

Thrived on lies to get us through our lives.

Many of us sleepwalk on the shells of
Slow-moving tortoises. The sun does not

Care about you and me. History and science

Tell us we are lost in space, and that the

Foundation on which we’re planted is doomed.

No lie can survive beyond the atmosphere we

Breathe. Not to worry, my friends, truth will

Survive long after our demise. We all need a

Few good lies to get us through the political

Sideshow of our lives. The tortoise moves with

Cautious deliberation toward the truth, steering

Clear of the polls on election day.

Chris Hanch 9-13-16