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Mind Over Matter

Wednesday, February 8, 2017 9:17 AM

Flying about

over houses and yards

giggling and laughing

with cohorts in play—

three to five-year olds

thrilling to the power of flight,

soaring out-of-sight

of parental detection.


Was it fun I sought

in the dream state

or a chance escape

from Daddy’s spanking?

Mommy had promised

a daddy whacking,

too tired from mommy duties

for a do-it-yourselfer

And Daddy was, if anything,

a staunch deliverer of the law.


Not sure of my infraction now

but I did lie about my guilt.

Weird how mommies

always figure out who did what,

no matter what we say.

They have a special gift,

an all-seeing-eye,

that decodes the ruse

imbedded in our words.


But when you’re three

lying is not about dishonesty

It’s pure survival.


Getting that heinie conditioned

for civic comportment …

a creed not shared by little ones

cut from the fold

for whipping stick education

Plenty of time for growing up

And pain for gain I knew

was grossly overrated.


Had no real concept of miracles

at such a tender age

But one happened that night.

Oh, not the flying:

Kids surfing the air in dream sleep,

common enough

But disciplinarian Daddy

rendering a verdict of mercy …

Well, shit!

That was one for the books.


Nevertheless,

that’s what happened.


As I landed back

in my flightless reality,

a thought entered my head

from beyond the gray matter.


How else could I explain an idea

so far-fetched?


It came to me to imagine re-e-ally hard,

and conjure up an alternate day

where I was Mommy’s good boy …

That Daddy’s home coming

would be painless.


Lo and behold,

life imitated art.


I heard Daddy’s arrival

Heard Mommy ratting me out

Heard him coming toward my room—

footsteps deliberate and purposeful.

Felt my covers pulled back

to the cool night air,

auguring a new episode

of crime and punishment

that always preceded

a stinging backside.


Daddy began his interrogation—

good cop–bad cop

rolled all into one,

probing for guilt or innocence

of charges leveled against me.

Not that Mommy was in the habit

of making false accusations,

but justice demanded

a vigorous defense and prosecution.


Seemed like hope against hope,

but Daddy’s strange chattiness

under such circumstances

hinted a rare chance

for this to come out all right.


I admitted my misdeed,

knowing Mommy Court

was weighted against me,

and prepared for pain.


“Now you won’t

do it again, will you?”

Daddy asked.

“No, Daddy,”

came my earnest reply,

feeling the octane of improbable grace

burning favorably in my direction.


“Well, go back to sleep now,”

(pulling the covers back over me

and leaving the room).


Ahh! Mind over matter—

a seed was planted.


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Excerpt From: Carl Hitchens. “Thinning of the Veil.” Carl Hitchens, 2018

Author Audio Reading: https://duende.bandcamp.com/track/hitchins-mind-over-matter

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/thinning-of-the-veils/id1402841660?mt=11

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/843606

Amazon Kindle:https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07F2R3HXH/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i1