The sound of hard steel smacking cold steel
jolts me awake.
I’m balled up in a fetal roll,
my limbs still in chains.
A new one tethers me to a pole.
‘N the dead bolt seals my fate.
When I felt the creepy slimy slugs
of black tar slide off of me
‘n watched ’em slink back
into darkness, I knew
it was all too real–Wait, how did I see?
I have a little different definition of evil than than most people.
When you have the opportunity and ability to do good and do nothing,
that’s evil. Evil doesn’t always have to be an overt act,
it can be merely the absence of good.
–Yvon Chouinard. Born 1938.
Our worst enemies are not the ignorant and simple,
however cruel; our worst enemies are the intelligent and corrupt.
–Graham Greene. 1904-1991
We are fast approaching the stages of the ultimate inversion:
the stage where government is free to do anything it pleases,
while the citizens may act only by permission;
which is the stage of the darkest period of human history,
the stage of rule by brute force.
–Ayn Rand. 1905-1982.
He who fights with monsters might take
care lest he thereby becomes a monster.
And if you gaze for long into an abyss,
the abyss gazes also into you.
–Friedrick Nietzche, 1844-1900.
My eyes adapted to infrared.
At that moment, in front of me,
I saw more tiny lights ‘n leapt.
Yanked back with a bone-crushing jolt.
I raged against my tethered state
‘n heaved against my restraints.
Dispirited, defeated, at my lowest.
The tiny spots of light approached. Eyes.
In no mood for company
Thousands of phosphorescent
neon eyes surrounded me.
Who chained me up? You?
What? What are you looking at? Hah?
You think I’m the featured freak in this zoo?
Have you looked in a mirror, lately?
They had no faces!
Chains, they are of our own choosing.
Only eyes suspended in glowing oval rings
atop black-cloaked, two-dimensional bodies,
like paper cut-outs, more like their shadows,
set against darkness, barely distinguishable.
They fluttered in the wind.
One pair grew close,
I sensed–the SLAPPER!
I pulled back and demanded,
Why didn’t you storm the gates
when they opened up for me, huh?
That faint resonance I felt earlier was
now mysteriously decipherable to me:
Anger and intolerance are the enemies
of correct understanding.
–Mohandas Gandhi. 1869-1948.
Loving your enemies does not mean
you have to agree with or accept what they do.
You can still love all of mankind and
be outspoken for what you believe.
–Bethany Jane Andrews Hoey
I believe the greatest gift I can conceive of
having from anyone is to be seen by them,
heard by them, to be understood and touched by them.
The greatest gift I can give is to see, hear,
understand and to touch another person.
When this is done I feel contact has been made.
–Virginia Satir. 1916-1988.
I am Tukayo.
We are all very proud of you.
You advocated well and upheld our values.
You saw what they did
… back home
… to us?
I bowed my head in shame
I saw what you did in response.
All times past,
in this moment and all time following,
I see you
Tukayo cupped both hands ‘n cried into them.
Silvery, mirror-like tears pooled in her hands.
Upon their shimmering surface, I saw:
No face, no identitiers of any sort.
Forgot, I was scrubbed. I looked up:
Tukayo threw her tears into the air.
They burst into a million
tiny paper dolls with wings.
Them–me–all of us.
My indignation subsided.
We had no markers; no mouths.
No lips; no tongues; no nose; no ears.
Yet, vocal cords worked ‘n let ’em hummm.
Heaven knows we need never be ashamed
of our tears, for they are rain upon the
blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts.
I was better after I had cried, than before–
more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.
–Charles Dickens. 1812-1870.
In many countries today, moral and
ethical norms are being reconsidered;
national traditions, differences
in nation and culture are being erased
–Vladimir Putin. Born 1952.
Please joion us. You are not alone.
No thanks. Just passin’ through.
All of us, at some time or other, need help.
Whether we’re giving or receiving help,
each one of us has something
valuable to bring to this world.
That’s one of the things that connects us as neighbors
–in our own way, each one of us is a giver and a receiver
–Fred ‘Mr.’ Rogers. 1928-2003.
Gonna find a way out.
I fought my restraints.
They started to hummm.
The resonance built up ‘n up ‘n up
until I could feel my shackles vibrate.
They heated up. I moaned in burnin’ pain.
Tukayo tenderly took my hands.
Somehow, my heart began to feel
the full breadth ‘n true dept of my real pain;
had no idea it was even there, let alone so much.
Not a great reward for surviving, not at all.
Not exactly my idea of victory, not at all.
The steel cuffs snapped open ‘n fell off.
If you never heal from what hurt you,
you’ll bleed on people who didn’t cut you.
–Tamara Kulish.
Someone said, “Anger is sadness that has
nowhere to go for a very long time.”
–Anonymous.
Hope is the elixir of life. It is the engine that
propels us forward in our pursuit of countless
goals, all of which might otherwise be impossible
to undertake if we were bereft of hope.
–Gad Saad. Born 1964.
Tukayo held my freed hands up ‘n cupped ’em.
Slowly my hands filled with their tears.
I learned, this is how they drank,
from their hands, and so did I.
My new source of sustenance.
So quenching, as it absorbed
deep into me. Replenishing.
So came their Third Gift:
The Elixir of Life: Release!
Born of our diversity,
the plethora of catharses
desalinates and distills
our tears into an elixir
that can cure any social ill.
Let the rain kiss you.
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver
liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
–Langston Hughes. 1901-1967.
It’s a relief to hear the rain, It’s the sound of
billions of drops, all equal, all equally committed
to falling, like sudden outbreak of democracy.
Water, when it hits the ground, instantly
becomes a puddle or rivulet or flood.
–Alice Oswald. Born 1966.
Legitimacy is the elixir of political power.
–Fareed Zakaria.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the
mark of weakness, but of power. They speak
more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.
They are the messengers of overwhelming grief,
of deep contrition and of unmistakable love.
–Washington Irving. 1783-1859.
Like the droplets of rain,
drawn down into the aquifer,
filtered by the earth, pulled along
into the stream,
into the brook,
into the river,
and back to sea.
We, too, meld together, as one,
without loss of and strengthened by
our individuality.
Our tears are the drops of life.
For all true citizens of democracy,
the capillary pull between our sweat,
tears, fears and prayers, is our strength.
