standing at the top
bleary-eyed and nauseated
holding on to stomachs,
glumly watching rain splatter the windshield.
dawn was breaking .
it was freezing and gray;
There was no sunrise.
beaten by fierce wind gusts,
Were we going to ride
that winding wet road?
the most tricky parts
feeling like an idiot
I was up all night,
somber meditation on mortality
we approached the summit,
passing through the gates
how am I going to know my limits?
The volcano had conquered me
how have I lived this long?
watch the sunset.
we made it to the top
passing through lush forests
up the arid moon-like summit,
I descended into the crater,
a rocky path of rugged lava.
this otherworldly place
black, orange, red and silver
Vents emitted plumes
the air is crystalline and still.
I heard no sounds
I posed for pictures
in the background Romeo was waiting.
We watched the sunset
It was sublime

Civil War ran on
They asked Native Americans
peaceful coexistence possessed
legendary skills existed
these men were required to partake
Native Americans knew horrific events
their way
their loss
Three Fires Tribes responded
Ojibway enlisted
Potawatomi joined
Others traveled
trained
cohesive unit was experienced
these men saw
hard service
men were killed
were captured
living hell
no burial ceremony
that journey joined
their story heard

If a poem were to be my last
Then from me the pen would cast
What would I write then?
What pasasages with that pen?
My wife? My life? My family?
About the world or about just me?
Would I mourn that I could write no more
And into it my soul pour?
Would I be sunny, sad or sour?
Would I take a day or just an hour?
I hope this poem won't be my last
If it is, It came too fast

Evil spirits be ******!
Listen up, because I am
rejoicing
Do your worst
I’ve already been through hell
I have made my peace
With the pain of optimism
And feel triumphant.
The cup remains half full
Yet somehow is overflowing
I’d do it all again
with joy
if you where still there at the
outcome.