Day: January 24, 2018
The Peace That Doesn’t Come
I swallowed up your fictions, building great thoughts and paradigms on them to support the framework of my soul’s integrity—because
I thought they were true. Really true. Truer than the dusty time-tested, grime-infested mores of another lifetime. Rusty religion.
And why not?
Everywhere I looked, the narrative thrived, as those in power connived to reel in the more, the many, the misled. Those in university demanded my allegiance and my reason. Media demanded my modesty and my shame. And the more connected I became, the more infected—yet still alone. The more I embraced plurality of thoughts and values, the more I felt this swirling nothingness of the all crowding out the any,
and the new flourished, silencing the drumming and thrumming of the old, what all people have always known—that there are true trues
and right rights, and
the fight is to cling to those when delusion and evil conspire, but
I swallowed up your fictions, wallowed in illumination,
waiting for the peace that doesn’t come.
Faith in the Wood
The wild risk calls me in, but
fear weights my ankles.
It’s that fear that has hobbled my whole life.
The fear of the unknown,
the fear of betrayal,
the fear that call will not be greater than calamity.
If I could just see to the other side and know,
and not be blocked by wood upon wood upon wood.
But I’m heading in and up,
fear in my pocket, resolve in my heart
because the wild faith-risk calls me on.
Gratitude
G iving thanks is a calculated choice, not just a
R esponse to warm, fuzzy feelings,
A aroused by a serene environment and an inner personal peace. To be
T hankful involves the seat of your will, not just the seat of your pants,
I ntuition gained by work and intentionality,
T ested over time in murky waters when emotions and motives were impossible to
U nderstand, when it would be much easier to sulk and voice the
D readful, dark components than look for the silvery grains of gold that in
E ternity are the jewels that will last.
Apronhead 