Really just an amateur trying my hand at this.
I have never believed, not for one moment, that what they did to us was anything other than a test. “Who is this they?” you ask.
By Katie 3 years ago in Poets
Brown humps on the hillside, the buffalo are laying down. Scattered about, they pass their days feeding and dozing. For years now, I’ve passed by them. A daily ritual of going and coming.
It isn’t really visible, to those around me. The casual observer might think I have it all figured out. That my life is an orderly progression of ease and simplicity.
The moment. That defining moment. That life defining moment. When things come into focus, and the world goes silent.
Never, ever, drink and write. Or for heavens sake, text anyone. What we think, what we utter, written while under the influence, may have a large amount of truth, but the manner of the delivery will most definitely lack the nessasary decorum.
In the company of strangers, there is a togetherness that we all share. A shared commonality of a perceived goal. It is what we have gathered together for. Though the goal differs for all involved.
I have to believe. There is no other possibility. I must stand fast in my belief. Without belief what do I have, what do any of us have?
Do I have ten thousand days yet to live? Do I have one day yet to live? To weigh a day against how many I may have yet to live, should I waste it working?
Sure, we can do something. Any ideas? Oh, I don’t know. You? No not really. I’m bored. Yeah, me too. We could go for a drive.....
I paused to look at last year’s milkweed, it’s pods open and emptied. The stalk, dry and dead. A few seeds remained, clinging to the plant.
The time has come, the truth is out. People are dying. This shot, this thing, this weapon, is killing people. Everyday, more and more evidence, more and more examples of young healthy adults dropping dead.
Sometimes truth is a bitter pill. Many seem to have an aversion to it. Unable to reconcile what they were told to what is actually the truth.
