The moment you see something with your own eyes and feel injustice with all your senses, you cross an inner border, you know you can’t go back from there.
How do we speak, not to the defenses and the armor, the puffed chests and bolstered cases, but to the innocent creatures beneath, rattled and confused? How do we step into the battlefield with curiosity, not to fight, but to call one another home? How do we call each other back to our own ...
But I came back to tell about it. Strong. Angry. Soiled. Many years of emotion and resentment filled my blackened heart, until one day it was over. The songs didn’t hurt, the memories were trite, and the suffering become a distant memory. I see you now so vacant, wearing this shell of a man, ...