In Anger and Mourning

The world holds no more shocks and surprises for me anymore. I’ve seen the patterns unfolding and they are ugly. So very very ugly. The ugliest holiday sweater I’ve ever seen in my 33 years of life and I don’t want to wear it, even ironically.

I had thought that I’d reached a point of numbness where the reality of the world we are facing had hardened me, toughened my scales into a carapace and shell to protect the soft inner organs from further harm. Not so, apparently. “The heart is a soft muscle, bro. Squish.” Thanks, Mikey, I really didn’t need that reminder.

I haven’t cried in a few weeks, and I foolishly thought I was beyond tears for this land, these people, this country that I now realize I never truly knew nor understood; and that cares naught for me and those of my mindset. We are on our own and I hold no faith whatsoever that the tenuous positions of governance will be able to fully hold back the rising tide of malicious cancer growing in the heart of the country.

I have asked “What am I to do? What CAN I do?”
The only answers I get are, “Protect those you love. Dig in, hunker down, and wait for it to blow over. ”
“There must be more to it? Seriously? I”m so mad I want to punch and kick and throw curses at those who would see the people I love destroyed. Can’t I do SOMETHING to hinder them? Even if it’s just tying their shoelaces together…”
“Well,” The spirits answer, “you can do all that if it will help you feel better. Bear in mind there’s a lot of curses flying around right now, so while you may not see immediate results, it will contribute to the last battle being a spectacular display of chaos.”
“…..Will it effect the chances of survival for me and Mine?”
A shrug.
“It is helping the Cause at all, my being angry and hurt and miserable?”
“No, but you’re human and you have a large heart, so the collateral damage will be painful to watch and we cannot begrudge you your coping methods.”
“Then what the hell am I supposed to be doing to aid the Cause? I promised to offer my services in exchange for protection and to see things thru to the end. I want to see what brave new world we create and I want to see the children….”

Here I stop and the tears threaten to come again. The children I know and love now, the ones who smile and laugh and are so beautiful in their innocence that I would give my right arm to shelter them from ever knowing sadness or fear. The children I fear to bring into this world as it is, and so I will be getting a new copper baby-plug installed on the Solstice. I hope and pray that when I get this one removed, that I will still be physically able to bear at least one child; the son I saw in a vision so long ago, a little blonde boy with his father’s green eyes.

“…I want the children to have a world worth inheriting. I want them to have everything my generation was promised, but denied. I want to fix the broken promises of yesterday with the steady actions of today to bring about a beautiful tomorrow.”

As the tears fall, I hear a gentle voice in my head, “Then keep doing what you’re doing. When We need your Services, you will know. Until then, hunker down, dig in, hibernate, and prepare.”

 

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