“It is required of every man,” the ghost returned, “that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and, if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death.”
– Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
Marley’s ghost haunts me still.
It was His will to offer me absolution and contrition,
but Marley’s mission seems to go beyond that.
He has become somewhat of a practical joker.
Never mind the poorhouse, Marley had better
go to the nuthouse and reduce the surplus population
of whatever plane he is assigned to remain upon.
I praise high heavens for the transformation I was afforded.
Nephew Fred has embraced the opportunity
to take this old fool back into the familial fold.
Cratchett is a devoted partner and friend;
more friend than Marley ever was, I’d say
without a doubt. But if it was without young Tim,
I’d never had gotten him to branch out
and become the clark I expected.
Tim. He walks amongst us as if his deformity
was not at all normality. I assure him
it was we who were crippled in our minds
to find him less alive in his malady.
I work less; I walk more. More involved
as a human being than being a businessman.
And all the better for it, I might add.
The true spirits visit as well, but in celebration
of the man I have become. Even the Future Spirit
smiles more; at least he does not waggle
his boney finger in my direction as much.
For that I am most grateful.
My moral remains. A fool and his money are happily separated
when it is used to fete humanity. To Hades with vanity,
I, Scrooge will be as good a man as this world
has seen lo these many Christmases.
God bless us, I have tried. Everyone!
(C) Walter J. Wojtanik
December 8, 1980
A busy night in the jungle,
it seems every bungled
suicide attempt and
accident picked today
to play out their dramas.
Street punks and pistol
packing mamas and pops.
Everything stops when they
wheel the shooting victim in.
It’s a sin, they got him in the back.
His jacket soaked in the outpouring
of his life’s force. In the course of such
events, life takes a front seat,
we meet it head on. That Beatle
guy was dead on. But, “Happiness is a
Warm Gun”? Tell that to this guy…
He looks like… Lennon?
(C) Walter J Wojtanik