It's hard fighting for what you want,
and it's *hard fighting for the greater good;

but fighting against what your very self desires,
your heart's desires,
in all its destructive, frothing rawness;
for the greatest good?

"Impossible"
resounds, and it ricochets off the walls of my mind into a series of never-ending; ear-splitting; soul-dividing screams.
Yet, another voice, still and small
- one that most of the world is deaf to -
drowns out entirely all else
the moment I turn my ears to it.
And it belongs to
you.

Yellow seeps into my field of vision from the edges. A subtle evil ...
and I know
what's coming next. My heart picks up speed like my adrenaline-addicted brother's car does on a free road. Perspiration forms on the small of my back;
accompanied by odd flashes of heat in a room cold enough that most are wearing jackets - or well, wish they had brought one.
And suddenly I find myself on the ground, hiding away in some musty closet(which is not all that bad a place to be, really)
still as can be
so as not to aggravate the monster, the one beginning to stir in me.
A growing tornado, spinning,
searching for a subject on which its all-consuming discord may be unleashed upon.
Myself.

I begin to think of the comfort I crave so immensely in this moment,
and how it can possibly be acquired;
of the satisfaction of tearing up an entire pile of paper(popping bubble wrap won't do this time);
or stabbing something - anything - with a knife, until whatever is left is beyond recognition;
or striking the surface in front of me until my knuckles turn black and blue, and red;
I know I must stop thinking now.
So instead, I try to purge the bloodthirsty-ness through my tears,
and cries to God to help dissolve my fears.
I am so
tired.
The turmoil within calms a little after some time - it has to appear so on the outside, anyway.
I cry and beg and pray that I will not return to the land from which I have been brought such a long way, though I know my efforts are not necessary.

For I have deep confidence that I will not,
and that morning will come.
For His faithfulness reaches as high as the skies,
and His peace transcends.

Trust me when I say that on Wednesday night, the storm which transpired seems to have lasted a mere millisecond compared to one moment spent in His embrace.
I realize then for the thousandth time:
He is the true source, the only source, of comfort.

We're born with hopeful wonder
We're born with tempestuous emotion
We try not to get pulled under
But get swept up in devotion

We get older and chip away
Rust in the sinking water
Trying to hold onto Maye
Always unwillingly slaughter

We mutate to an object inhumane
Excuse it with "It's in our DNA"
Seems like we're all on *******
Have brain damage more every day

We **** each other left and right
Trying to cope and manage
Wrecked brain and no sight
We create collateral damage

So don't say "I'm only human"
Blaming everything except yourself
I think it's time you tune in
And take the book off the shelf

Your eyes are covered by your own hands
What is it you fear?
It's pathetic and sad
You can't see you are your own puppeteer

When the world looks dark,

Sometimes all you have to do

Is open your eyes.

did you have a
good thanksgiving?
not to bring you down
but the people who
first helped the whites
are the poorest folk around.

the Nations of Lakota
the Navajo. the Sioux
they live their lives despairingly
not knowing what to do.

these people have rich heritage
some live off the land.
but the rez may not be able
to give them ground to stand.

what Caucasian people
gave the native folk
were the parts unwanted
a disgrace!  a joke!

some put up casinos
to "help" them in their plight
but much of this income
is wrenched from them by the white!

drugs and "fire water"
are a great deal to blame
for destruction of a culture
which bears noble name!

I have read the stories
of Gallup New Mexico
of many deaths of citizens
of the nation Navajo

because intoxication
and the bitter cold
have them sleeping under cars
or so the stories told.

when the owner of the vehicle
gets in and drives away
they run over the poor drunkard
who dies where they lay.

other grave conditions
have these people fraught
they have no essentials
we don't give a thought.

don't want to be crass
don't want to be gross
but they have no toilet paper
use newspaper! or worse!

there are churches. charity
but the folk are proud
they have basic dignity
this is not allowed.

but you can help their Nations
by giving to THEM
the worthy tribal leaders
will help them once again.

I felt lead to write this
I am SO concerned
they are the source of inspiration
by a great respect
they've earned.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/27/2015