It’s ok. I has to be. People want to know you’re ok. Seeing your pain, with all that happens in this time of pain, well, the problems of two people . . . or even one. . .
So, for those of you that cry for humanity and wince for the one, take heart (please); I mourn the death of children untimely, uneccesarily taken at the hands of a violent world. I understand that Black, Brown, indigenous, and oppressed communities everywhere are occupied militarily and their/our minds are chained by education that indoctrinates.
I understand that those of you “struggling” for “all the oppressed” have chained yourselves to singular notions of the “one party” or the one election . . .or the one savior.
I understand that while you struggle, how we are with each other seems so minuscule, inconsequential, when the fate of the world seems so much more at stake.
I understand that seeing one pain is unbearably tedious when it is satisfying to contend with the misery of millions “doing what you can”.
And I am sorry I’m not there with you, because it would mean, for me, that I had capacity to expend, which I now do not.
This is my journey and to share it in the world in a voice slouching unrelenting toward anonymity amidst the cacophony of miseries, gives me strength. . . or at least helps me cope.
To hide in the backdrop on the stage of Pains is fitting for my life. Like a “normal” soul sitting in a coffee house watching banters feigning safety and security when we are all a drunken driver away from being slammed in the rear waiting at a stop sign. A tragedy of a moment on a timeline, a universe, cruel in its “intelligent design” and unrelenting in its uncaring motion forward.
I voice my despair. It is a temporary refuge that helps me heal. I could simply leave it and move on to happier moments among the “easier” potentials for solace and human alleviation.
Sometimes hiding is the best path to find the world.
When you’re not willing to give up.When becoming solid means to swim in an ocean of unclear futures.
To find, or return. To one.
It’s ok. It has to be.
I see a child. I thought she only had one eye. . . .She smiles and plays with her father. . . .