Darkness & Light

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In darkness I lie in confusion
devoid of sight
it’s all an illusion
till comes the dawn burning bright

except for the days
when I’m blinded by the night
unable to see truths way
I look away and yearn for the light

 

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Triumph Over Hate

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Hate has not risen from the depths of hell.  It lay latent in man’s soul waiting to rise again with opportunity.  Bullets fire in rapid succession targeting those historically oppressed and marginalized.  No gun, no bomb, no worries; simply get behind the wheel to enact your fury. Find a bat or a brick and beat somebody or desecrate someone else’s holy site.

What gives you the right? Is it simply that you’re white?

More anti’s than I can count, phobias against anyone with a different religion, skin color or chosen love. The perpetrators of hate think they reign supreme, but hate does not rule. We the People will rise to take back our rights, our sacred sites and our very lives.

What gives you the right? Your history of dominance? Your ability to oppress?

You with your shield, your semi automatic, your slogan hat, your flag of hate that harkens back, you will not prevail. By history you will be listed as a footnote on the wrong side, a dark stain on your country and all of humanity.

Your bygone chants echo the past but with a sour note of desperation, as if you know this may be your final stand.

What gives you the right?  Is it because you can stand hoodless in daylight?

Love and tolerance will claim their victory,  even if it’s by the blood of the injured and through the tears we shed for the dead.  Weary and beleaguered we will still find cause to celebrate, perhaps not today or tomorrow, but now that we have risen together we will see that love conquers hate.

NEVER AGAIN IS NOW

 

Caught In A Web Of Fear

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I am caught in a web, a web of deception and lies, a web of fear.  It whispers constantly in my ears; no, can’t, don’t. Danger is everywhere. I lay in it’s web, paralyzed by the anxiety fear has wrought. I know fear lies; yet I still lay motionless as it creeps closer, ready to spin me ever tighter in its never-ending cycle. I am it’s prey, helplessly stuck, just waiting for it to feast upon me.

Garage Sale

I walk the tight isles haphazardly set up in the oversized garage. So much is packed into the space it’s impossible to focus my eyes on any one thing. My wife was a collector, he says. She passed away recently. We chat as I try not to stumble while navigating the maze of tables and shelves. He lost his wife nearly a year ago. They were married 58 years. She had a lot of collections as well as multiple examples of household items. The years of her life on display.  Her life’s work up for sale.

I understand there is pleasure in collecting. Satisfaction from the hunt for a missing piece or special memento. I collected things for a while myself. Until things began to lose their meaning and the act of collecting became a distraction and a way to escape from reality.

When my reality crashed, I let them go, save for a few items that held special meaning in my life or were an item of remembrance from a loved one. After the purge I felt lighter, less tied to things, and more open to the richness of nature and people. Now I collect birds in song, butterflies in flight, and clouds in the sky. I treasure the people in my life, the new ones I meet and the stranger in the street. The Passing glances, smiles, a chance encounter, or a brief interaction.

Everyone should have something special in their lives that remind them of happy times or special loved ones. If you collect something that is meaningful to you, treasure it, revel in the joy it brings you, and perhaps pass it on.

In acknowledging the impermanence of life I strive to travel lightly. I do my best to appreciate what the universe puts in my path to see, feel, and experience. Those things you won’t find at a garage sale, which is fine by me, because I don’t want to end up a garage sale.

Realities and Dreams

 

Version 2

Can’t manage a job
but I still have my will
I have no money
won’t swallow the pill

beaten down and hurting
I have nothing to hide
working hard each day
I still have my pride

need a helping hand
a dollar in my hat
just wanting for godspeed
the wind at my back

no shame in needing
I still have my dreams
even if they’re fraying
I’ll hold them by their seems

The Normal People

I watch them each morning, going about their business rushing to and from, on the treadmill of life. A woman walks her dog as the sun rises. A man drops off
his daughter on his way to work. Still another returns, perhaps he worked the night shift.

I hear their cars starting one by one as their day begins; off to work, school, or any one of the myriad of places people go each day; seemingly with little effort.

I call them the normal people. I was once one of them; going about my daily activities effortlessly. Now I watch, looking upon them with a combination of envy, sadness, and longing. I feel sad from the loss of functionality that has been taken from me, I envy them doing with ease what to me is now a struggle, and I long, oh how I long, to be one of them once more.

I wonder what their stories are; how different might they be from mine. Maybe they aren’t so different; maybe it takes them extra effort too, maybe they are in pain, lost, or sad.

Ultimately I wonder if perhaps, just out of my sight, there sits someone else watching. Perhaps they too sit and watch the normal people, hoping that they could be one of them.