Centuries ago, many walked this road,
slaves seeking freedom from the chains of their abusive owners. You can feel the ghosts of the men and women that wished to not be owned in the soil of the Freedom Road. Their prayers with every step, taken during the dead of night. Constantly fearing being found in the escape of the captive life. Their sweat of fear paved the Freedom Road. Encoding symbols like a puzzle to arrive home to home. Hoping the persons could be trusted for food and rest before continuing the journey through the Freedom Road. The pain is endured by being cramped from walking at night, hauled in a boat. Taken away by the feel of the glowing Promise Land paved by the freedom Road. July 20, 2020 © Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2020
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From a faraway distance
know you can see all that is out of control in the air around the world that is pulling at the seams. People are locked away, worried about their loved ones feeling alone and scared. Isolation is playing with the thoughts of the mind. It is never-ending, the alone. Tempers are starting to flare, rage is taking over. The wind is spreading the fire, people are hurting, sharing the pain with others. Know you are watching, the destruction is growing, wounds me be beyond healing. You are the Angel of Healing yet are letting all bleed out. So much sorrow lining the skin of faces. Scars to be felt for years yet from a distance you are sitting, watching. June 14, 2020 ©Andrew Scott - Just A Maritime Boy 2020 This tunnel seems to go on forever
completely dark in this passageway the brick walls are wet with slime giving the feeling of dampness that runs through the body Have never felt so alone with every indecisive step taken no one ever takes the same steps as each tunnel is different At times, wish for company to share the experienced fear in where this hole leads Hold on to all hope that past spirits will guide as I cannot see, only feel the cracks that are stepped in Breath and believe that there will be a tinker of light in this life's tunnel July 11, 2020 © Andrew Scott - Just A Maritime Boy 2020 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 |
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