Our Greatest Enemy,
Doesn’t lurk in the mountains of Afghanistan,
Or the alleyways of Iraq.
Doesn’t call for the heads of the innocent,
Or buried beneath rubble from a drone attack.
Jihad is not their battle cry.
They are the ones who send their young to wars,
With no hope of a return.
Pervert patriotism as a means to serve.
Turns virtue into vice as a catalyst to destroy.
Use love as a manipulation to deploy,
The greatest treasure a nation can employ.
Am I a good soldier because I believe these thoughts?
That fantasies about enemies to fuel our lust,
Was forsaken as the gust of a bullet,
Rendered our knees in mud?
That the ink of my brothers,
Are etched into my soul,
That no amount of celebration can restore.
Is love of country,
Blindness of truth?
And is naiveté of good,
The burden of youth?
War enters a person and never leaves. It’s never over for the ones who have to see. War takes away something inside of us that we can never get back, our innocence. Some of us can cope better than others. Some of us are destroyed by it. We don’t fully comprehend what the experience has done to us. Can we truly heal? Can we replace that thing that has been taken away from us? Is it better to forget about healing and find a way to cope with our existence?
We can never get back what we have lost. We can always try to make a life by using what we’ve gained. How do we find meaning through suffering and destruction? We must live on for the ones who have gone and the ones who still remain by our side.
War is never over for those who experience the horrors of it. Welcome home parades or free dinners cannot erase the memories. Compliments cannot remedy the inner conflict we face as we arrive home to a world we don’t know anymore. Through my experiences, I realize I underestimated how quickly things change. Time continues to move with or without you. People don’t stop their lives and wait for you with bated breath.
Continue reading “The Burden”
What compels a man to fight?
To step inside the ring of life,
And wrestle time with all it’s might.
And to be bloodied and bruised,
By truths unglued,
Of steady disappoints and love refused,
And gut punching failure infused,
With a lust of rage dripping from recused lips.
The swing of the hips signals impact with closed fists,
And the ring of the bell says we made it through hell.
The sweat that pours over the wounds and sores,
Tell us that life is a battle,
Filled with destruction and meaning,
Of love and clinging,
Of tears and laughter,
And the gust of power we seek after.
And the battle is never over,
Just a little reprieve until we can recover,
And steady our aim so that we can discover,
That life is time,
And time will change.
For change is our master,
A teacher who is unbiased,
Never judging but instructing,
Never hating, but loving.
And we end as Warriors,
Tasting the bittersweet battleground,
Exhausted but renewed,
Transfused by a ray of satisfaction,
That only the battle hardened can accrue.
How do you stop yourself from falling? When you want to stop but you have no way of doing it? How do we stop digging when the hole is big enough?
Majority of the time we stop digging when we hit bottom. When it becomes to painful to keep going in the direction were going. The bottom feels like you’re going to die, but you’re not. The bottom is a place of pain, destruction, helplessness, and confusion. Sometimes it takes many rock bottoms for us to get the message.
Change is inevitable, a constant within our reality. We fear change because it’s uncertain, it’s foreign, and there’s little security. Change throws us out of our carefully crafted life. One of the reasons we suffer as humans because do not know how to manage change. Instead welcoming the gift change can be, we recoil like a snake in the grass ready to strike and hold onto our territory. But that’s all life is: change. We can welcome change into our arms like a long time friend, or we can resent it like a jaded lover.