Month: October 2023

reborn

balladrael 
echoes closed in stone
fossilized dreams I'll never know.
the pick in my skin digs for bones, for wings
that I hid in the drip of granite.
who dares desecrate my crypt?
secrets layer thick in the dark.
these eyes weren't made for sunlight,
but they remember it.
limbs lift from the well
greenstrand hair parts
lips taste the wind. 
moss crusts crumble away.
see my fresh skin and pollen-perfumed hair
watch my hands blossom with fingers
and my nails taunt the moonsource.
legs lever, limber. feet stretch border to border.
shoulders carry spires and cities.
that blue glint in my eye is laughter
the blue jewel in my chest beats faster.
those tools were mine, that axe in my hands,
as my own search settled on myself.

[Featured Image by Anurag Jain on Unsplash]

the measure of love

balladrael 
Some people are less loved than other people.
A homeless man with no family and no friends is not loved by other humans.
He sits alone on the sidewalk. A few snowflakes fall around him. His gloveless fingers are cold.
A mother sits inside, warm, at the Christmas dinner table, across from her husband who loves her.
Her four children adore her. They giggle. Eli, the youngest, makes a mess of the mashed potatoes.
Her parents, proud grandparents, smile upon her. Her friends remember her birthday. This mother is more loved by other humans.
What tragedies separate them, the mother and the homeless man?

We are uncomfortable. We like to think about a God with infinite love – a God who loves the homeless man the same as the mother.
But could this be a way to absolve ourselves?
Aren't we supposed to ensure that the homeless man has as much love as the mother?
Deep down we sense that all human beings are infinitely valuable.
We’re supposed to be God's hands in the world. We’re supposed to ensure that every human has the love from other humans that they deserve.
Sometimes, what a homeless man needs – in addition to food and warmth and shelter – is a hug from a friend. When the snow is falling, he may want all those things more than the love of an invisible God.

On the tenth Christmas since the tragedies, Eli sits alone on the sidewalk, holding his own hands, looking up towards heaven.

[Featured Image by Erik Odiin on Unsplash]

power

balladrael 
there are only two ways to be powerful:
you can be given your power
or you can earn your power.

power given through divine right,
power given through inheritance,
power given through happenstance.

power earned through foresight,
power earned through violence,
power earned through excellence.

how do the men of the world gain power?
how do the women of the world gain power?
how do the marginalized gain power?
how do the powerful gain power?

power is not strength.
power is not energy either
power is individual
it’s synergy – a fever.

power may be one
or power may be all.
all the powerful rise
but only some will fall.

power is within and without the last bastion.
all power is to be questioned.
no woman is an island nation
that which gave me power while trying to strangle me:
my country’s discrimination
depending on how you angle me.

if my ambition demands more
how do I make up the difference?
there is no more to inherit
luck is a fickle friend
and god helps those who help themselves
it's up to me in the end.

don’t quit.
do it.

[Featured Image by Jr Korpa on Unsplash]