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I find myself stopping in a crowd of people and time slows still. Their laughter, their unpredictable movements, the fights and the resolutions and the bonding of brothers--all quiet. I am left in the fabric of things to wonder at the tapestry we call a culture.

How am I to know what is proper when all have their own true mothertongue? Who can teach me what to say when all I know is jumbled and disheveled based on who I've been and what I know?

I leave behind a southern legacy of liturgy and doctrine that outlines exactly what is human and exactly what is not. I step into a society that constantly years to fill a void--please Lord, find us someone who knows the Truth.  

Their apathy and nonchalance is false; bravado is left wanting. I know they they all cry out for connection and seek it in flesh rather than spirit. I am caught in the midst of the pursuit of happiness and the quest for morality. I know not what brings joy to humanity, I hike towards that river and hope it is not run dry like all others.

In the study of psychology, I have found so many places where words fall short and the great carnal animal within all of us takes precedence, demands attention, seeking comfort in a world that often overlooks those that need it the most.

Love is a fragile, timid thing that is most often hard to find and difficult to voice. Instead, we lash out in aggression to hide that inner child that needs a tried and true comfort of a known embrace. We seek forgiveness and express it in anger, manipulation, meeting our needs however possible because this is America, after all.

This is all we want in our sequestered human heart, the beginning of redemption.
Wonder wallows
And wades awake
Watching and waiting
For a grave mistake.
Out of the dust
Comes revelation;
Out of chaos,
We seek and find
In solitude
And grow
In destitution.
Will we learn
What we yearn for
Only in
How tenuous
Life is—
As a dragonfly wing.
We hold fate
In our hands
And love
On the edge of a kiss.
That speaks:
We will never know
Than this
How can we feel
When all we know
Is horror
Inside a mind
Meant to create
And instead
Harbors calamity
How often we feel ashamed
When our skin could glow,
With all the ruin
We have survived
And turned into poetry,
All the defeat we withstand
And walk away from,
Leaving yesterday
And braving tomorrow
Will we wither away to nothing
Or will we build a bridge
With tethered hands
Tied to the pursuit,
Grounded by the earth,
And determined
To find nirvana
Beyond the wilderness
To hold pages
In your hands
Is a world

The bubbling brook
On the river's edge,
The fierce knight
Nearing the stone ledge

in the ink,
in the structure.

There is peace
In this,
Until life
is Colored,
and whole
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