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(A 'thought piece' I wrote in high school)

Ok, I'm not paid to think (like the TV shouting heads), I have no real voice (vote), and certainly no credentials - but I'm as invested in America as any high-school citizen can be. I've pledged allegiance 3000 times (hhmm.. do they doubt our loyalty?) and when it comes to loving America, I'd have to say my classmates and I are at the center of the spell.

I'm afraid we're growing up in the age of hate.. the age of phony outrage where each position large or small is high noon and violence is underfoot even when policing ordinary citizens.

We won't address the multitude of old problems in this new age.. we'll just unleash a marquetry of half truths to dispute the proven until unreasoned arguments reach their paranoid fullness.

The real world is alarming enough - lets just push that away and ignore it - while we're at it lets **** shame the poor, the old, the sick, the unemployed, the hungry and the hand of mercy.

I realize America was never one moral atom bonded for better.. but those anvils that forged us appear neglected or forsaken. I'm afraid what's happening now, what we're seeing and hearing now, is a symphony of erosion - that by the time I have any say at all, the middle class will be gone - america turned slum - where even the voice of despair will be turned traitor.

We'll only be able to see our greatness in museum souvenir shops where nothing is affordable and everything is made elsewhere.
This was one of the short essays for my Yale application. I post it now as an election classic 🙃
  Oct 31 Richard Shepherd
Rai
This evening there are no words
Or explanations for how I feel .
I have become accustomed to feeling a little numb .
Only when diving head first into nature and quenching my thirst for life can I feel .
I will not write a masterpiece this evening ,
I will not fasten  the seat belt
ready for the roller coaster that follows,
I will dive head first
Then regret later
I will allow,
Beckon even
I will scream from the roof tops until my lungs are sore
I will not be silent
I will not be kind
Or caring
I will not be needy or wanting
I will quench this thirst that lays in my soul
My soul
Dare me to feel and I will need to back away and hide in darkened places.
Licking old wounds and not allowing you any closer.
Be careful how you approach me,
I seem like I am standing here with an armour to protect.
But I am weak when love lies before me.
I will not write a masterpiece this evening ,
I will be the masterpiece
Standing tall and feeling weak,
Looking brave and yet falling,
Falling apart at the seams that make me
Me …
Shaking,
hesitating,
I held out a hand.

"Would you allow me the honour of
accompanying you on a country walk?"

Jessica lived a few houses along the street from my home.
She moved there with her mum and dad,
maybe four years prior. We had never spoken before.

She was a diminutive figure with a sad but pretty, freckled face.
Her long red hair was pulled back tight into a ponytail
which accentuated Jessica's striking features.
And yet she seemed to have no friends and rarely,
if ever, held her head aloft to say hello in passing.

I, too, was an outsider, a timid, shy boy.
With no inclination to fall in line and become
just another kid from the estate.

Pausing mid-stride, head bowed above the cracked,
damaged paving stones,
her arm motioned towards mine.
My heart was racing.
A mixture of fear and excitement.

"I'd like that very much" she softly whispered.

We joined hands and made our way to the entrance of
a small unmade road which led to green fields and
woodland beyond.

"My name is Richard, and..."

Jessica cut in;

"I know who you are, Richard. I was hoping one day to do this."

Smiling, we cast bashful glances.

Soon enough, this unlikely pair were chatting and laughing,
like we had always been pals.
Jessica even initiated a half-skip of a walk ,
while swinging our arms back and forth.

We picked buttercups that day,
made daisy chains,
placing them around each other's wrists.
Wildlife was out in full force.
Squirrels, sheep with their young,
birds singing sweet, tuneful songs...

All at once, the two children,
so ill at ease with the world for so
long, were set free.

"Hey Richard!" my new companion shouted.
"Let's pretend we're rabbits!"

I duly obliged.

Dropping to our knees, smiling and giggling,
we became rabbits indeed,
bouncing about,
pretending to dig for carrots,
running from an angry farmer with his gun.

Until it was time for us to return to our homes for tea,

"Bye-bye Jessica, I've had ever so much fun.
Thank you for a wonderful afternoon."

Dropping her sweet face to one side,
smiling broadly, she leaned forward and
placed a gentle kiss on my cheek.

I blushed.

After walking home and saying our goodbyes,
the evening drew in.
Sweet dreams of a special day filled the sleep-time hours.

I awoke to hear my parents in deep discussion.
From what I could make out,
there had been a fire on the estate during the night.
A family had perished.

I made my way downstairs.

"Richard" Father looked anxious.
"It was Jessica's house. You knew her, right?"

I couldn't speak.

I knew her.

We picked buttercups.
  Oct 30 Richard Shepherd
Maddy
Should have never listened
Her truth not mine
Looking back needed to move forward
Couldn't play her games
Her rules were not honest and true
Maybe just for her because she had to be the winner
How can you love somrbody but not like them?
I did
I do
Heaven only knows these lessons
Took another set of eyes to see what I was blind to see.
I was an enabler.
Searching for Galileo,
    the race to be first home,

In a sea of patients
    we climb the probability tree,
    walk upon the shore collecting
      memory shells,

We win the little wars,
     lose the big fight,

These windows are breathing apparatus,
     this ceiling, a blur of tungsten sky,
     rain, tears, weep,

To rest near to you,
     the technicolor sleep,
     and I died with you,

All farewells are sudden.
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