By Daniel Paiz

These times have led this writer to another moment of reflection and internal review. The past can pop up in your mind when you aren’t expecting it, nonchalantly scurrying by like a squirrel caught by surprise. This piece is a reflection of when I did a once in a lifetime kind of thing, something likely to be done again by this writer. If you know me, you know what it is back in April of 2012; if you don’t you can guess (and search in past April posts).

Any who, learning from your past can provide helpful perspective. Not because you did something right or wrong per say, but rather there are lessons scattered about our own pasts and presents for tomorrow if we only openly look upon them.

 

Eight Years, Two Days…

Eight years, two days & who knows how many hours,

eight years, two days & who knows how many showers,

I’m feelin’ dirty despite that moment being outta sight,

those people’s blood is on your hands

as you detonated such strife,

Conservatives will love this,

Liberals will hate it,

historians will know the truth behind my statements,

 

Peanut galleries

full of fools,

now shut the **** up

and go back to streaming Netflix or Hulu,

now for the rest of us in standing room only,

let’s examine what I’m getting to,

I have to admit despite criticisms

meeting a charismatic president was pretty cool,

 

What wasn’t cool was being a prop,

in front of thousands most of whom I didn’t know,

selected because I know how to write my story

better than an activist or speech therapist do,

it might sound like bitterness,

it’s not despite what image you wanna sew,

the threads here feel aged

like the cabinet your grandparents had full,

 

I’m saying fame is a gateway drug,

and it can feel like you need more hits,

when in reality nine times out of ten

I didn’t have it after that sixteenth second,

So I’m left with a lesson

not penned in anger or frustration,

instead its revelation not biblical,

know the ending before accepting a role in the sun