What is this monster that we cannot touch?
We cannot see?
We feel it certainly.
It’s presence like the weight of a thousand bricks
Loading us down with rules about rules about rules.
The pressure envelopes like the pokes of a thousand sticks.
Suffocating u’der the name of political correctness,
fear of death.
This is reality.
This is war.
It’s cold.
It’s dark.
Too many moving pieces and not enough peace.
Too many people turning a blind eye, leaving others to wonder
Are we the only ones?
But then a conversation happens.
Hints are dropped
And finally
I meet another.
My people.
One who feels as oppressed and alone
The division, the aggression to the advantage of none.
Questioning the sanity of our world today
Doubting everything and hoping in One
Releasing all possessions
Saying, “Here I am. Take Me.”
Together we can make it through
For strength in numbers is what governments use.
As a people, we need it too.
It keeps us sane when attacks get fierce.
when critics raise their roaring tongues to pierce
our hope, our joy, our hearts unraveled to . . .
A friend. A comrade. A brother.


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