Trouble In Dry Gulch

I was reading an article about the troubling amount of child abuse going on behind the closed doors of isolated quarantine. I wanted to share this I’d written. I had a very difficult childhood, in an extremely chaotic and upsetting home environment, dominated by an extremely manic, paranoid-schizophrenic, racist grandmother. Life was disrupted daily by her bizarre ravings, which continued from my childhood until her death in my high school years. Her daughter refused to institutionalize her. We just tried to hide her away, and when she’d get out — my adoptive father, and later I as well, apologized to the neighbors, the police, and the FBI for her insane backyard and telephone ramblings. We’d clean up the messes she’d make around tge neighborhood. She would chase any friends who tried to visit me away with brooms and mops, cursing horrendously while doing so. We lived a strange, isolated life because of her. I just escaped into fantasy. I survived and overcame this madness. I introduce you to my imaginary childhood friend that got me through it all. His name was Big Bob. In the heart of a terrified young boy, he was more than real…

 

Trouble In Dry Gulch

~

you were my truest friend
my steady rock of safety
my captain of escape
you were always there

the amazing man of magic
the hero of the weak
defender of the helpless
my always gentle friend

when the footsteps in the hall
woke me in the night
I would feel you tug my hand
and under we would go

through the secret passage
you kept beneath my bed
to the waiting viking ships
and off to fight the dragons

in the land of snow and castles
carved from clear blue ice
in flowing robes of fur
we struck with swords of gold

you were very brave
in the face of fear
I knew you would appear
never laughing at my tears

when the grating metal rasp
of door latch in the dark
would bolt me from my sleep
you would have the horses ready

we would thunder off to dry gulch
to wrangle up our posse
save the townfolk from the bad guys
and return when all was calm

you were very swift
in a snap you would arrive
in time to get me out alive
helping me survive

below the ocean we would dive
in your crystal submarine
down to the coral world
marveling at the creatures

we would leave the sub
to swim among the wonders
to dart and spin and float
far from pain and worry

you were very smart
my midnight flight arranger
you knew to rocket us from danger
far from any evil stranger

we would soar to venus
in your special silver starship
or to some other distant planet
and do battle with space monsters

and when they all were slain
we would fly the milky way
circle round the bright star clusters
thankful to be weightless

no matter how afraid
I knew that you would find me
knew you’d never judge me
I knew how much you loved me

knew you’d have me back by day break
with the dark night far behind us
and the warmth of welcomed morning
would once again embrace us

the midnight footsteps now are quiet
the ships and rockets sailed away
no more trouble comes to dry gulch
the crystal sub so long in dry dock

my final adventure now unfolds
it’s time I go this one alone
you have traveled on ahead
all nightmares brought to stead

I’m not sure I ever thanked you
perhaps took your love for granted
without you I’d never made it
you are emblazoned ever in my heart


~ ~ ~

Poetry is a statement of empowerment, that sets the soul free, to be exactly who you are — and in being just that, to introduce your truth to the world!
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rob kistner © 2021

first draft: 1997

My ultimate hero was my adoptive father, in whom I finally confided.

 

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