Hank

He took a ride with Coe

Jackson heard his voice blowing in the wind

Both happened on the dark roadways of Montgomery

But I don’t believe this is the only place you can see him

For Hank

Is more a feeling of defying the wrongness of the world that surrounds us

As much as when it surrounded him 

Yeah, you’re more likely to see him

On the mud soaked streets of Montgomery

Leaned up against

The crumbling brick buildings of that city

Waiting for the fog to fall from the night

But really he’s everywhere

If you just take the time to look

Look close within the depths of your soul

You know

Inside

Where most are too fearful to go

You will start to see him

More and more

Yes, Hank is in spirit

But wasn’t he always living his life

On the edge of existence

All while knocking on Death’s Door

So the next time you have warm whiskey flowing

Like fire through the center of your heart

Listen for the train wailing in the distance

Look close as the boxcars

Lazily lumber past you down that two-rail track

Look, look inside and he will be there

Playing his guitar

Singing the blues for the ones that are down

Pushed down by the world

Yes, the ghost of Hank Williams still tilts his hat

To the ladies of the south working all night at the diner

So their families will stay afloat

He’s there with his middle finger pointed upwards

When the boss puts you down

To make himself feel like god

He’s there when the bottle runs dry 

And the last cigarette is smoked for the night

When the whippoorwill throws its calls

Through the dark tree shadows of the pines

Yes, Hank is right there beside you

When you embody the spirit of rebellion

And stand up for the less among us

Hank is right there beside you

This poem is from my book : Petals Falling