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Hillard Sarver Poem
Death Watch
It was early morning.
The sun was barely above the high hills on the other side of the lake.
I was at the end of the dock slowly reeling in my line.
I could see fish jumping from time to time further out in the water.
However, none came close enough to be tempted by my bait.
My line was now the whole way in.
I decided it was time to give up for the morning.
After all fishing was not about catching anything for me.
It was about watching the lake.
Enjoying the small waves slowly lapping against the shore behind me,
Watching as the last wisps of fog burned away in the warming sun.
It was about looking forward to another beautiful day.
I turned around and zipped up my tackle box that lay on the bench.
I did not want to lose any of my fishing gear.
After all it was my inheritance from my father.
My dog slowly got up from the dock he was laying beside me while I fished.
I smiled at him.
Just like my dad he too would pass on.
I thought back to my last night with my dad.
He had been fighting cancer for a long time.
At least, it felt like a long time to me.
It attacked multiple parts of his body,
His colon,
His kidneys,
His lungs,
As time went by his body slowly wasted away.
He was a strong proud quiet man.
He worked hard all his life.
In fact, even with his cancer he kept working.
Just as he had done ever since I could remember.
Even in pain, he would still get up and go to work at the foundry.
He would come home all coated in gray.
I remember seeing the gray ring in the bathtub his end of day baths would leave behind.
I think about the constant attack his body had to endure.
I remember thinking when I was young he is strong he will never get cancer.
Nevertheless, you see cancer does not care how strong you are.
It does not judge how good or bad you are.
How healthy you look on the outside does not matter.
It just is and it has a job.
To consume all that is good.
All that is healthy.
Finally, in the last weeks he was too weak even to get out of bed.
A bed was set up in the living room.
He could watch television as he lay there.
One of the last joys of his life he could still do.
I was living about four hours away at the time.
I would travel back and forth and spent what time I could with him.
It was now the last week of his life not that anyone knew at the time.
I remember the hospice nurse.
She told me and my mom most would have passed on by now.
She said his pain level, and his morphine levels were the highest she had ever seen.
That was my dad, he could handle pain and his body processed drugs very fast.
It was now Thursday night.
Everyone was in bed.
I slept or tried to sleep on the couch in the living room.
I could hear my dad's labored breathing.
I lay there trying to sleep.
I was going to drive home tomorrow morning I needed my sleep.
I heard the clock bell that was on the church chime twelve times.
I grew up with that clock.
Every night as I lay in my bed while still young,
I would hear it chime softly in the night.
Tonight, it was not comforting like it normally was.
His breathing was all over the place.
He would sometimes mumble or try to say something.
I heard the church clock chime once.
I finally fell asleep shortly after that.
I awoke with a jerk.
I lay there what was it.
I did not hear the clock chiming.
I did not hear anything abnormal.
Then I realized what woke me,
A lack of noise,
I got up checked my dad.
He was breathing but very slowly and softly.
He looked almost peaceful,
As long as I could overlook the gray sunken look in his face,
Not see his wasted once strong body.
I held his hand felt his weak warmth.
I went into the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea.
No one else was up yet.
The sun was just starting to push back the darkness.
As I finished my tea, my mother came downstairs.
We quietly silently ate breakfast together.
The morning progressed.
The hospice nurse showed up as she did regularly.
She changed his bags.
I asked her how long did she think he had.
She said I really do not know.
She said it is a surprise he is still here now.
I nod quietly.
She leaves,
Others some friends some family come and go that morning.
Finally shortly after lunch it is time for me to drive home.
I touch my dad's hand gently.
He looks so fragile I do not want to squeeze his hand.
He grasps my hand with a strength that surprises me.
He lifts his head a little from the pillow.
He is trying to tell me something.
I can't understand him.
The morphine and the pain has taken away his ability to talk.
He keeps trying.
I keep trying to understand, but I can't.
I tell him it is okay not to worry.
He tries harder to tell me.
Still, I cannot understand.
He lowers his head and relaxes again.
I slowly let go of his hand and leave.
It was a long drive home.
I knew my aunt his older sister was going to be there this afternoon.
So as I drove home, I was glad about that.
My dad had two sisters both older than he.
His mother died while he was very young.
His sisters raised him as their baby as far as they were concerned.
They both loved him very much,
Even the one that when they were still kids got mad at dad, for some reason.
She got a hatchet and hit him over the head with it.
She assured me it was the blunt end.
I got home late afternoon.
My dogs greeted me upon entering.
I had two at the time.
They were brothers.
Sometime after I got home not sure how much time passed.
The phone rang.
It was my aunt.
She told me my dad had passed away at about 5 pm.
She told me that he got very restless again trying to get up.
She held him down and told him it was Friday.
She told him it was after four and his workday was done.
Finally, he relaxed.
His breathing got slower and then stopped.
His work was done.
Copyright © Hillard Sarver | Year Posted 2016
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Hillard Sarver Poem
A Three-Year Old Teaches Joy
The singers start their festive, upbeat song, words ringing out.
Their jubilant voices fall upon my restless waiting ears.
Hearing her grandmother's voice her little face beams.
Her bright crisp spring dress makes my eyes smile.
Every spirit starts to respond and stir to the tune.
Echoing lightly off the walls, I can almost see the sounds.
Radiant locks of blond curls bounce as she leaps from her mother's arms.
Roiling river currents of thought calm as my soul watches her.
Everyone watches as she dances up and down the center aisle.
Effortlessly, her legs carry her smoothly as my eyes follow her.
She holds her arms up like a little ballerina, a broad smile covering her face.
She leaps lightly her beautiful dress flowing around her.
Age filled hands reach out; she places her little flawless hands in theirs.
As I watch her spin beneath those connecting hands, my eyes moisten.
Copyright © Hillard Sarver | Year Posted 2016
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Hillard Sarver Poem
Lady Lake Seneca
Full moon upon lake
Rippling waves bounce at my feet
Sea of stars below
Copyright © Hillard Sarver | Year Posted 2016
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Hillard Sarver Poem
The Balance Sheet
The endless cycle
Life expends
Death accumulates
This is one of my lune writings above. If you want more information about this style see: http://lestersmith.com/2009/05/29/poetic-forms-haiku-senryu-tanka-and-lunes/
Copyright © Hillard Sarver | Year Posted 2016
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Hillard Sarver Poem
The Endless Dance
As I look up at the moon
I tend to think of it as being alone
Floating in the deep dark cold
Surrounded by nothingness
But then I remember
Something I tend to forget at times
It is not alone
For it is bound by gravity
To the Earth
To the other planets
To the Sun
To the Galaxy
To Superclusters of Galaxies
To the entire Cosmos
I smile
I see them all whirl around
Bound to each other
In the endless dance
Copyright © Hillard Sarver | Year Posted 2016
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Hillard Sarver Poem
Poetic Epistemology
(Belief System modifying JTB+G to JTB+C)
We believe without thought the sun rises.
However, we know the facts of how the sun burns.
Where facts and belief overlap is justified true belief.
We believe without thought we will have clean water to drink.
Nonetheless, we know that often water is fouled by mankind's greed.
Where foul and the clean overlap is a false belief.
We believe our bodies are functioning correctly.
Notwithstanding, we know sickness will strike us all.
Where health and sickness overlap is our tested belief.
We believe there is no end to the ticking of the clock.
Even so, we know our body's time on this earth is limited.
Where limitless and limited overlap is the birth of true knowledge.
We believe without thought that the infinite cosmos exists.
Regardless, we know our minds are finitely bound in our existence.
Where the infinite and finite overlap is our event horizon to enlightenment.
We believe without thought we are alive.
Nevertheless, we understand why we die.
Where life and death overlap is true knowledge converting to singularity.
Copyright © Hillard Sarver | Year Posted 2016
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Hillard Sarver Poem
From Space
An Icon of faith
In chains yet it does float free
Gravity's grasp gone
In the last moments knowing
Dying for all our mistakes
Copyright © Hillard Sarver | Year Posted 2016
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Hillard Sarver Poem
The Almost Omniscient, Omnipresent, Omnipotent Tech God Oisin
Session 2: Tech support notes from the server backup and dead chicken case
“Hello this is Oisin. How may I help you this morning?” Oisin says in his polite business voice.
“Oh, mighty omnipresent and omnipotent tech god Oisin. How have we displeased you that you see our disaster but do not grant an answer to our prayers? Your mighty Oracle is not speaking to us this morning.” The voice over the phone sounds shaky and uncertain.
“Please just call me Oisin. Who is this? Does anyone there speak English?” He asks this thinking; he is just not hearing this person correctly.
“I speak English and my name is Pete. Sorry I am distraught and thought for sure you would have seen our problem already here at ABC Corp.” His voice started to get less shaky as he seemed to think he might have caught Oisin in a fault in his godhood.
“Okay Pete hold on for a second as I get into your network.” Oisin thinks at least; I know what company I am dealing with. He can see the workstations but not the server. “Pete, I cannot see your server. What is your workstation name?”
“How would I know that?” Pete says with an even stronger voice as he thinks less of this tech god.
“Look at the upper left of your computer screen, there should be a tag there telling you the computer's name.” Oisin hoped it was still there, he did not want to have to explain to him how to see it by clicking on the Windows Start button. The poor guy seemed to be in a bad mood already.
“Oh, I see it. It says Win7-WK4.”
“Okay I am getting on your computer now. You will see me moving your mouse around as I check things out.” He goes to the computer's drive window and sees the server drive letter is showing disconnected. He quickly connects to another workstation and sees the same issue.
“Pete can you see the server from were you are at?”
“You mean your Oracle? Yes, I can.”
“It is called a server by the way. Well anyhow can you see any lights on it or the that its screen is light up?” Oisin says, hoping it is just that the server is off. Get this figured out quick, so he can drink the rest of his needed coffee.
“Yes I see lights and the screen is showing what it usually shows. Can you not get on its screen and fix this?" Pete says, losing even more faith in Oisin.
“Okay, was the server working last night when you left?” Oisin asks trying to find out some more information as to what might be wrong.
“Yes everything was working last night. We performed our evening ritual that your Voodoo tech god told us to do every nigh!” Pete said with an accusing tone.
“Okay, tell me exactly what you do at night, step by step, leaving nothing out.” Oisin had looked at the motoring logs as he listened to Pete. He saw that the server connection went down at 6 pm last night. He thought to himself; he will have to find out, what the heck this “ritual” was Pete was talking about.
“Myself and John went to the s-e-r-v-e-r,” Pete was having a problem with this tech talk it was easier thinking of it as the Oracle, “and I disconnected the magic black box called Backup 1 and connected up Backup 2. Next John took the chicken by the feet and held it upside down as I slit its throat, and he circled the Oracle, sorry I mean the s-e-r-v-e-r, making sure the blood encircled it just like we were told.”
“Hum, all right,"” Oisin thought okay strange, but he knew where all this was coming from now, “and that was all that happened?”
“W-e-l-l as we went to leave; John slipped in the blood and tripped over this blue snake thing coming out of the back of the server.” He was proud of himself; he said the tech term better that time.
“Okay, I think I know the problem. Go to the back of the server. Do you see that blue snake?” Oisin said in as even as a voice as he could.
“Yes”
“That is the network cable to the server is it still connected to the server?” Oisin hopes this is the problem; he really needs his coffee NOW!
“No the end of the snake is laying on the floor.” Pete says as he bends down to pick it up, “ I have it in my hand now, what should I do next?”
“Okay look at the back of the server and you will see a square hole that the end will fit into.” Oisin says trying to hide the relief in his voice.
“Okay, did that and some lights came on near the hole. Is that good?” Pete asks hoping that is the case.
“Yes, that is good. Give me a second,” he says as he goes back to Pete's computer screen and clicks on the network drive and gets the drive to load. “All is good now,”Oisin says not hiding the pleasure in his tone. “Now, Pete from now on skip the entire chicken ritual, just change the backup drives.”
“Okay, but will that not displease the Voodoo tech god?” Pete says once, again uncertainty enters his voice.
“Do not worry. I will make sure he understands. Good-bye for now and call me if you have any other problems.”
“Okay I will, thanks.” Pete hangs up the phone and Oisin takes a long drink of his lukewarm coffee.
He puts down his coffee and types an email to the rest of the tech support group warning all to knock off the voodoo dead chicken waving humor, or he would stuff a dead chicken down their pie hole.
Copyright © Hillard Sarver | Year Posted 2016
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Hillard Sarver Poem
The Almost Omniscient, Omnipresent, Omnipotent Tech God Oisin
Session 3: Tech support notes from the messed up file and mushroom soup case
“Hello this is Oisin. How may I help you?” Oisin says in his polite business voice.
“Hi Oisin, this is Sally. I have a really bad problem. I have lost an entire day of work.” She took another breath and continued. “Yesterday I made massive changes to the product cost sheets. However, right before he left at the end of the day Fred got into the file changed and deleted so much now all my work is gone.” Another pause for a breath then she continues. “I would have recovered it from last night's backup, but I knew that would be no good since it backed-up Fred's changes last night.”
“That is correct, Sally that would do you no good. However, do not worry since this file is on your server. We will be able to get the file you edited back.” He tells her as he gets on her computer. “I see you have the folder on the server opened already. I will let you recover the file so you can do it yourself next time this happens again. If you run into problems feel free to call me. Okay are you ready to start?” He asks just to make sure she is comfortable doing this.
“Yes, this will be good for me to learn.” Sally's voice sounds enthusiastic, which makes Oisin happy.
“Okay, the file you have selected is the one you want?”
“Yes” Sally sure sounds readying to go.
“Right click on the file. Now on this drop-down menu select “Restore Previous Versions” by left clicking on it.” He sees the correct windows coming up as she clicks her mouse. “Look at the list see the dates and times and left click once to select the one you want to restore. The file dated from yesterday with a time stamp of 3:35 pm could be yours. Does that sound right?”
“Oh, yes that would be about the time I saved it and exited out of Excel.” He could hear the excitement in her voice.
“Okay, now let me explain the options you have. The one is to open it; the second is to copy it to another location or finally restore it, which will replace the existing file. So if you want to get all your input back and erase the version Fred created it.” He watched as she selected the restore option. She then clicked on it and opened the file.
“Yes, this is mine. Thank you so much, you saved all my work from yesterday. I have another problem maybe you can help me with. It's not a computer issue, is that okay?”
“Sure, I can try.” Oisin answered with a puzzled voice. “However, first I will email you the instructions for doing this again if needed.”
“That would be great. Now my problem. It's about Fred. He has not been looking good and seems to be losing weight. So I brought in mushroom soup for him to see if he would eat that. When I tried to give him a bowl of it, he turned away and mumbled about the mushrooms are screaming at me and almost ran into the doorway on his way out of the lunchroom. I even made it with almond and coconut milk since I know he is a vegetarian.”
“Oh, sorry Sally I think that might be my fault.” He thinks back to his last conversation with Fred. That was more than a week ago, not good. “Can you transfer me to him.”
“Sure and thanks for the help.” She said as she put him on hold.
“Hello, this is Fred” Fred's voice even sounded weak to Oisin.
“Fred, this is Oisin. Did you stop eating anything after our talk?”
“Yes, I have nothing left to eat.” His voice sounded sad and lost.
“Listen to me Fred, the mushroom is the fruit of the mycelium. It is the mycelium that communicates with other plants and itself not the mushroom. The same goes for fruits and nuts they are not thinking sentient beings it is what they grow that is.” Oisin hopes this will help convince him to eat something.
“Hum, okay. However, sentient beings can be grown from the fruits and nuts?” Fred's voice still sounds unconvinced.
“That is true; however, until they are planted and start growing they are not sentient.” Oisin decided he'd better take this even a little further. “If we planted all the possible nuts and seeds, we would upset the balance of life. So we have to eat them before they become sentient.”
“Oh, I never thought of it that way. So eating a pepper which is the fruit of the pepper plant would be okay also. Thank you Oisin, I am going to go and get some of Sally's mushroom soup I am starving!” Fred said hurriedly and hung up and left Oisin smiling and sitting in silence for a while. Then he got up and went outside and checked on his mushroom patch. He was hungry for mushroom soup now as well.
Copyright © Hillard Sarver | Year Posted 2016
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Hillard Sarver Poem
Fall
As hot summer closes cooling fall begins.
It sounds like the hollow bells of the coming winter.
A riot of color starts to coat the trees on the mountain as the days get shorter.
Fall crocuses emerge from the warm ground and relish the soft nights.
They stretch thin slender petals as they reach for the fading sunlight.
The waters of the lake often now are warmer than the air above.
As a slight breeze hits my face, I feel its crisp dry fingers caress my cheeks.
In the morning, a mist rises from the still calm surface.
The mug of tea feels so warm against my fingers as I hold it.
I sip it and savor its flavor as I survey all that is around me.
All that is fall comes to my settling mind.
The farmer who is now harvesting the last crops of the year.
I can smell the grapes and the apples when I close my eyes.
With them still closed I can smell the cooking pumpkin pie in the oven.
The air around me smells different than it did a few weeks ago.
Yes fall heralds the ending of summer and the beginning of winter.
Even so, there is much to this season that refreshes my soul.
I can look back at this year and remember the good things about it.
I will also try to forget those moments that were not so good.
My spirit senses that this ending means the promise of a new year.
Copyright © Hillard Sarver | Year Posted 2016
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