Lucky
written January 20th, 2021
"I've always been lucky," he says,
standing at his gate
talking to me on this dirt road,
"I survived an inoperable brain tumor, cancer
and they took one of my lungs,
but I had 2, so I'm fine.
Always been lucky."
He turns back to his home and dogs
rolling the gate shut behind him.
I am left to wonder
how does fate dispense luck?
Who gets it? What type? How much?
Is it years served?
arrests made?
women loved?
children raised?
dogs cared for and buried?
I sit in my car and watch him walk
through the trees to the house he built
with plenty of room to turn around in
I see the inexorable path
the luck dispensed and choices made
that has brought him to this moment
he and his dogs
at the end of this dirt road.
If he could choose different luck
would he?
this man who has always been lucky.
This might be my only poem about someone I actually know. I took poetic license with a few details. Sometimes I try to paint pictures, and this might be a picture that only I can see. I probably haven't shared enough for others to see it, but then that's poems isn't it? I write, and you take what you do from it. Through the lens of your own life.
I asked my friend if I could post this, and he said yes. We haven't talked about it yet, but I suspect that he would say he wouldn't change anything. I think most of us know, we can choose the next step on the path, but not where the path ends.
