Washing My Hands

I notice the faded butterfly tattoo

On his cold lifeless upperback.

His body eaten up with

Poor living and more poor decision making

And now finished off by disease.

Found on a cold hard floor

Curled up beside a toilet.

How miserable a place to die

Here, antiseptic and alone.

No DNR orders, so we do the deed

Because we're supposed to.

CPR - and for what, a chance?

Well, the living go on living

And the dead are just that - dead.

So I wash my hands;

Washing them of his death,

Washing them of his dying on my shift,

I just wash my hands.

Then I get to the paperwork

And I get back to my routine.

My Morning Dana

The best part of waking up

Is Dana in the morning.

Fresh, strong, and hot to touch,

With deep natural flavor

And full rousing aroma.

Good to the last drop!

Atop A Mountain On This Way

I have scaled a mountain,

Overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles,

Even conquering my very self.

Now I stand upon the summit,

Blackbelt attained, and I

Scan the horizon in all directions.

I see more mountains to climb

Reaching far into the distance.

My martial arts journey

Truly has only just begun.

I begin the next step on

My way, stronger and wiser

For the experience.

Taking no particular way, as my way

And having no limitations, as my limitations.

Unique in my own

Strengths and abilities,

Seeking paths yet to be discovered,

And the only true opponent being within.

Diamond In The Rough

Like a diamond in the rough,

Yet to realize its true value;

Training and continuing to

Learn and taking the cut

And the burn and the polish.

Hardened product of the

Heat and the pressure,

Rough on the outside but

With that undeniable light

From deep within making

Its way to the surface.

Only a matter of time before

That flawless character is

Ready to truly shine.