The Quest for Happiness (A Poem)

A painting by my mother, Margaret Plumb.  It makes
me imagine a journey through dark, dangerous places
that still have hope of light and color.  

I have searched for you in the depths of my needs  

In the bedsheets of a hundred loves sought

and in the breath of insipid kisses

with lesser beings. 

You elude me like a high from illicit content

Withheld like withdrawal

Of substances supposing to do

Something better than depress

So pour me another drink, and yet another,

And hit me up with that antidote

That your brother’s girlfriend

Swears her life by. 

Is this thy precious elixir?

Of endless laughs, and smiles that will

Not break at the end of a long day

When sleep won’t come from thoughts undone.

Roads not taken, and dreams deferred

And I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.

Damn you Dad for the words

You said to me that day.

I limp through this life with the crutches of

A thousand sins of the father.

Sans the constants and peace that a

daddy should supply cause he was all sold out.   

And this emptiness isn’t replaced

By the world’s distractions and neon lights

And no matter where I tap her precious

reserves, all I find is dead preserves. 

Oh how I want to be like they look on tv

All laugh tracks and happily-ever-afters

And lessons learned with nary a scar or

Afterthought of deeds done in the dark. 

Is there a man or a woman, or a food

Or a wine, or a politician

Or a product with guarantees to

Exonerate sins until they are undone? 

No. No, there is only You.  Who promises to

Love me unquestionably despite the foolish

Acts I’ve done in want of brief reprieve.

You who has loved me, unwaveringly from the start.

*(I don't write a lot of poetry, and when and if I do, it is usually very private. 

But for whatever reason I felt inspired to jot this down.  I haven't edited it much,

as it seems more personal when I leave the flaws of my thought process intact. And 

although the emotions are personal, the story is not my own personal story, nor is this inspired by my own father, who is a loving, caring, and great man).