I've lived the kind of pain they write about
In the tales of heroes,
                       who came and went without
Salvation or celebration; and,
      instead, became close friends of doubt.

When luck leaves your side,
And there's no one left watching . . .
               There is no martyrdom.
No heaven to fall from. No damnation.
                Just nothing.
                Nothing and no one.

But I won't let myself succumb
To the temptation
             of self-righteous certainty,
             false justifications, or
             egotistical self-mutilation -
Just to bleed on those who lay
             Below my lowly elevation.

                     Not like you.
                     I am not made like you.

No longer, will I distort my own view
To lie to the few, who stand with me in the fire.

               It's true.

               I am a worthless *******,
               and even I can hardly stand it
               when I speak about myself.
But this time . . .
It's about more than me.
And, for once, I'm going to spend well the wealth,
That I was given and didn't earn,
On those who showed me how to learn
               And to never become like you.

Yes -
I am judgmental and self-loathing.
I am selfish and I am wrong.
I am naive, and strung out and strung along.

                                But I
                                  am not made
                                             like you.

                                             I am strong.

Passive resistance.
With words against tyranny.
Beacon of courage.

Weeping willows daughter,
Why do you cry?
What do you mourn
That has fallen
To the soil
And withered?

It is
The immigrants fear
As their child is ripped
From their womb

It is
The child’s blank stare
When they are refused
Education
And forced to be
A wife

Destitution,
Desolation,
Desecration.

These are the tears
Mother Earth cries
For her children.

This is why my grief
Grows

"Fight back!",
"Don't take it lying down!",
I frown, as the meaning fades and cracks,
Resistance is more than mounting an attack,

"The wheel will turn.",
"The buildings will crumble.",
I mumble, their disapproval stern,
Resisting is failing to learn.

Hope popped out of a storm
A room full of anything but me
Me & my brother
Me & my living mother
A fantasy
Death was never a solution
Fame was always an option
Opting for something that will never make sense
Is my way
Of making resistance

Water and loose gravel
Tumble down mountains.
Stems, leaves, and branches
Grow toward the sun
And sway with the breeze.
Stalactites form and drip,
While stalagmites grow below.
When lava has nowhere else to go,
It bursts through the surface of the earth.
The planets spin and turn,
The stars burn and send light flying,
The ocean spits out dead things.
Objects in motion continue moving forward
Forever.
Everything in nature
Follows the path of least resistance
Including mankind.
Every path was forged,
Every rail road was built,
Every highway was paved
Because it was easier than the alternative.
Every skyscraper went up,
Every paycheck went down,
Every war was fought
Because it was easier than the alternative.
Imaginary lines were drawn,
Around everyone and everything,
And we learned to believe they were real
Because it was easier than the alternative.
We followed the path of least resistance
And now everything is easy.
Being so poor that you can’t afford food is easy.
Living with disease and cancer,
Rotting from the inside out
Because you can’t afford to go to the hospital is easy.
Getting bullied, harassed, and beaten
Because you act or look different is easy.
Getting ***** without ever seeing
A shred of justice or remorse is easy.
Being gunned down by the very people
Who promised to serve and protect you is easy.
Everything in nature
Follows the path of least resistance
Including mankind.
Objects in motion
Continue moving forward
Forever…
Unless they are
Compelled to change direction
By an external force.