“Crossing Over” by Alan David Ross

Please let me ask you a question…

What do you think a man’s chances are of walking blindfolded through a mine field?

Can he make it intact or will he be blasted to bits?

Actually that is two questions but I only require one answer…Okay never mind, I will attempt to solve this little conundrum by myself. 

Without some sort of guidance along the way of such a perilous trek, I shouldn’t think that anyone’s chances would be very good at all…pretty long odds even for the most ardent or reckless of gamblers.  Can you, the reader think of anyone who might be whacked out sufficiently to take even one willing step into such a dangerous place? 

For many years I was that off the wall whack job that blindly went where many had gone before.  Forever men and women have stridden onto that field of mayhem and death, all of us taking a faithless leap amongst the obstacles, pitfalls and rip offs laying in wait for the fool hardy.  Man, it’s not like we couldn’t smell a dead rat.  I mean, stop for a moment and look about yourselves…this place is strewn with the dead and dying, the air is filled with the stench of rot.  Here we go on our daily regimen of drug procurement; borrowing, begging or stealing the keys to the kingdom.  The road less taken, travelled only by the wretched.  How is it that some of us make it across this no man’s land of that existence?  Were we guided?  Are there such things as guardian angels?  How could I wander aimlessly for almost two decades through that hellish maze and not be taken out by the enemy?  Are the powers of destruction just piss poor shots?  I recently was told by my daughter that she has prayed for me many times over the years (I can’t tell you how unworthy I feel in the face of that honour—could prayers of another, on our behalf, make us harder targets?

Honestly, though, when you look at what a homeless addict faces daily on his or her quest for gratification, it still amazes me that we don’t all die sooner.  I would like to send a message to all and any of you who are still treading through the mire.  The grass is most certainly greener over on this side of that festering shit hole.  Please keep that thought alive somewhere in your souls. 

I am no guide nor am I a guardian…but as one seemingly unforgiven to another I swear that I do pray for you! 

 

Alan David Ross

2012

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