Of Whippoorwills and the Truth

 Have you ever sat on the porch on a warm Southern night?
Listened to the Whippoorwill tell you who he is, over and over and over?
Did you feel that melancholy heart that comes from those simple memories of youth?
The recollections of my rebellious past remind me of the time my Mama spent hoping and praying that I would one day find that elusive buried treasure of contentment.
All the times my dad tried to show me the way and I stubbornly shrugged my shoulders and walked away.
Now I struggle to look myself in the eye because I hear the Truth so much more clear today, as it imitates the Whippoorwill; I Told You So! I Told You So! I Told You So!
Oh the bitter sweet memories that come from the nostalgia of those warm Southern nights, as the Whippoorwill continues to remind me who he is, over and over and over.
Just as the Truth continues to remind me who I am, over and over and over.