Never again will we entertain this tyranny
that wears a thousand divisive masks
but is always a scared and greed-scarred child-man
hiding behind a curtain.
Moments just arrive, or collide, with the last thought, the last action. Bird food/imminent death. Dog barking/missile attack. The expected/the unthinkable.
Here in this moment, as I let myself get in touch with every part of my body, I am brought to the memories behind the scars and what they represent to me now.
I collect these moments. As if they are shiny gold pieces and the brightest ruby and shimmering emerald stones. Treasures often found after digging through the mud.
I’m sure you, like me, have days when you wonder if you’re enough -- if you’ve spent your moments wisely. Of feeling deflated when you hold yourself up against the goals and ideals you had for yourself and realize you’re not there. When you regret both doing and not doing things.