In the midst of fear and chaos
there can be a new light of hope.
Though there is a fast disease
that has taken over all of us
in this land of violent confusion.
 
People marching the streets.
Peacefully protesting hate
and the injustice that is brought
to the people of the minority
that have been unjustly killed.
Tragic ends to innocent lives.
The marchers speak on the behalf
of the victims that cannot.
 
Indigenous people are missing
or found floating in rivers.
The powers that are in charge
would not move from their desks.
Treating the victims
as pieces of paper not humans
until the remaining people
screamed out for an investigation
to why no one pretended to care.
 
Country under a Communist reign,
leaving its citizens poor and weak.
Living in places that are falling apart.
Screams and marches of the people
wanting a wall to fall
so the outside world could come in.
Freedom given to the people.
 
For centuries voices have cried
and fought for a new life
for people who could not.
Everyday their hands are out
for the deserved help of others.
Someday there will not be a need
of these voices
in hope these times will change.
 
May 30, 2020
©Andrew Scott - Just A Maritime Boy 2020

​Susan wakes up everday
as soon as the sunrises,
packing her vehicle
with pastries and hot coffee
to take to her uptown core.
She drops them off at a make-shift shelter
for ladies trying to start over again.
Susan remembers when she was there,
leaving a place of abuse
and the strength to look forward
with a small gesture and a smile.
A gentile gift of hope.
 
Gilbert wakes every Saturday morning,
packs a guitar in the back of his car.
Stops for water and coffee,
pays for the people behind him
without saying a word to the receivers.
Gilbert then goes to a senior's complex
where some are not even able
to get up to leave their room.
He brings out his guitar
and plays for hours.
Smiling back at the grinning faces
that are looking back through windows
as Gilbert sings his gift of hope.
 
Each work day, Jessica prepares.
Puts on her nursing scrubs
and when she gets to the hospital,
a mask, head dress and gloves
to give comfort to those
that are sick, alone and scared.
Jessica goes from room to room
with kind words and smile
knowing that she amy also get sick.
She fights that feeling each work day
as Jessica spreads the gift of hope.
 
Through gestures of the unselfish and caring,
good spirits are spread in the air.
Going from person to person
who pass it on to the next.
Filling the human race
with the gift of hope.
 
May 14, 2020
©Andrew Scott - Just A Maritime Boy 2020

​Been sitting here in quarantine
for what seem to be an endless time.
Stowed away from a running virus,
staring out the window,
taking in the surrounding quiet,
wondering what it will be like
when the spreading is over.
Will everything be better or worse?
 
Know a body was found dead,
laying in the open, beaten.
A city center park, the resting place.
 
In another place, just a few hours away
victims play at peace
from the rampage of a man
that everyone knew
but cannot tell you
why his mind turned mad,
taking away family members of others.
 
People are starting at each other
while in the lines of impatience.
Tempers are flaring
for the wrong reasons.
 
A man lay in critical condition
after being purposely run over
in a shopping center parking lot.
Frustration of being asked to wait in line
drove the man to
almost take the life of another.
 
Gangs of anger
are lining the streets,
armed with chants and guns.
Screaming for everything
to be re-opened
even if it spreads a virus
and more fellow citizens
are laid to rest.
 
The stir crazy has hit
certain people globally,
showing the worst in people.
 
As I look out the window
and watch the madness,
figure when this is all over
will stay sheltered away.
 
April 19, 2020
Andrew Scott - Just A Maritime Boy 2020

​People out there say I passed
many years ago.
I cannot disagree with them.
Feel lifeless, full of nightmares.
 
I stay awake when I can,
struggling with emotions
of the horrors of yesteryear.
 
When I do sleep
it is in small increments.
The shakes wake me up.
 
I stay in this house
so people do not see
me in the condition I am.
 
Thankfully people stay away.
No townsfolk want to come
to a house that looks older
that what it is.
The overgrown, weedy lawn
assist with this.
 
I was not always like this.
How I got to where I am
is a strange journey
that more than one have taken.
 

 
I was eighteen years old.
The age I could have a license
however could not go to a pub.
 
High school had just finished for me.
Did not know what to do next.
Working at our local lumber mill
was not an option
that I wanted to explore
even though my father
and his father worked there.
It was not for me.
 
While some started there
right out of high school
I drifted without options.
My father was angered
over what he called my laziness.
 
I saw an office to enlist
after another household fight.
Saw it as my way out
hopefully to never come back
to this corner of New Brunswick.
Little did I know.
 

 
The time in training at Pennfield Ridge
was nothing to prepare us or me
for what was seen when we landed
in the battle worn, North France.
 
We were preparing for Vimmy Ridge.
It was March, 1917.
Our Corps were to raid trenches
to gain on the enemy before the main fight.
 
The battle in the trenches against the Germans
was an aggressive, bloody affair
with so many dead and injured
for both allies and enemies.
 
It was my fourth trench raid,
We did not surprise the enemy,
blood was everywhere.
The confusion and screaming,
bullets and bodies,
then nothing.
 

 
I woke up in a bed,
some hospital somewhere.
Through blurred vision
I saw the lines of beds
littered with bodies.
Men crying, stained blood covers.
 
My pain felt so intense.
did not know what was causing it
until I went to wipe my eyes.
My right hand was gone,
missing up to half my forearm.
The scream that came out of me.
 
I was there for a little over a month
then I got papers to go home.
The one place I longed for.
 

 
A hero’s welcome is what I got
when I finally arrived home.
A meal that only a mother could make,
pride in my father’s eyes.
 
The nightmares started after that.
I would say just a few weeks later.
Screams that would wake everyone.
The trenches being replayed
in black and white.
Cannot even explain the pain
in a hand that was not there.
 

 
Several decades later
I am what you would call a recluse.
Stopped socializing shortly after I got home.
Could not deal with the stares.
 
Most of the townsfolk have left
that would truly remember me.
The new people leave me alone.
Like it that way.
 
Part of me is still in that trench.
Sometimes I wish the rest of me
was buried there too.
The person I was
died that day.
Now I wait for the remainder
to do the same.
 
April 29, 2020
©Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2020
 

​Know that inside you are hurting
the mind is clouded and confused
everything is making you feel alone
searching for answers as to why
without a clear tunnel to go
 
There are people out everywhere
feeling the same conflicted emotions
that is hitting you and your heart
 
As we walk through this with each other
breathe in, taste how precious it all is
there is a new sky every day
look up, it is beautiful
even when the look is grey
 
Take a hand, hold it together
all of us, as one, so we all can see
feel the strength of us, lifting
can walk along, struggle by struggle
overcoming all as we are stronger together
 
April 28, 2020
©Andrew Scott - Just a Maritime Boy 2020

​We are in this together
to pick up the weakened
heal them with strength
so all can be built again
 
Boundaries have been brought down
loss has affected everyone
in our global neighbourhood
nationally or race
does not stop pain
each person feels it.
 
Holding hands across the land
with unspoken kindness
will provide the courage
to face all without fear
as one body, together.
 
April 20, 2020
@Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy

​We have been here before.
The scars from, bloody skin,
aches from the broken bones
show that we have survived.
Another battle is nothing
when fought with determination.
This is for certain.
 
Forces outside of our control
have crept in vying
for everything we think is important.
The evil does not know
how misguided it truly is.
 
It is seeing cracks
in our human foundation.
Basic challenge is being challenged
due to unexpected panic
amongst the confused few.
 
We have conquered in the past.
History is littered with these battles
with what has been considered
larger, more brutal foes.
 
The beatings are real
and the pain will last
with us after the fight.
Sacrifices are to be expected.
This is war.
 
It has been proven
when we battle together
as one unified unit
that evil clouds disappear
as long as our arms are connected.
Victory, over the long haul, will happen.
That, when combatted with the human spirit,
is for certain.
 
March 24, 2020
@Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2020

Boxed in anxiety of the unknown
is taking over this confused body.
Starting to ignore time
and its existence.
Just wish to breakout
of the mad ness of this mind.
 
Breathing is even,
chest could stop
or explode at anytime.
 
Attempting to clear it all
from the racing mind
to center my soul’s universe.
 
Sitting, bringing in the light,
centering on the positive
holding onto and appreciating.
The valleys can be worse.
 
Spirits have spoken
to stop the shaking.
The body being opened
to the whispers of the calm.
 
April 2, 2020
@Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2020

Take my open, pleading hand.
Walk me through the pitch dark
of this unpredictable place.
 
A gentile, calm touch is needed
to calm by bodies nerves
from what it cannot see.
The blindness causes cold fear.
 
Feel so lost looking up for guidance.
Clouds have covered the guiding moon
and the bright traveling stars.
So alone out here.
 
The comfort of knowing what is next
has been taken away without care.
Each step brings anxiety.
Do not wish to move forward.
 
Take my open, afraid hand.
Walk me through the unforgiving dark.
 
January 12, 2020
© Andrew Scott - Just A Maritime Boy 2020

I am losing my voice a lot
at the scenes being played
in front of us all.
They bring shock and disbelief.
 
A news article shows a twelve year old
laying, barely there, in a hospital bed.
Found hit on the side of a wintery street.
The driver of the missile car
was nowhere to be found.
The boy left with bruised, broken bones,
dried blood on a puffy face.
The coward driver drove away
and left the boy for dead.
The disgust took the voice away.
 
A man shot down by the boys in blue
after stabbing walkerbys
on the historic London Bridge.
The tortured man breaks
while wearing a fake explosive.
Taking innocent lives he hopes.
What pushes a man’s mind
to drive to such means.
The thoughts cloud a mind.
Words are lost in thinking.
 
A man takes his own life
after being released from a wellness check.
Kept in for less than an hour.
Friends called officials constantly
to check and help the young adult.
The powers that be kept releasing
until the life was taken away.
Why was the man released
and left to his own devices.
Head shaking, no words.
 
So much to be said.
The wrongs being spread
that can be changed
with just one voice.
The voice lost today.
 
November 29, 2019
© Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2019