wolf – Opinions Of Eye

Back To Back

“You may not remember the time you let me go first.
Or the time you dropped back to tell me it wasn’t that far to go.
Or the time you waited at the crossroads for me to catch up.
You may not remember any of those, but I do and this is what I have to say to you:

Today, no matter what it takes,
we ride home together.”
― Brian Andreas, Traveling Light: Stories & Drawings for a Quiet Mind

weheartit

Back to back that’s how we started,

fighting the whole world, we never parted.

Then came new life, shafts in the quiver.

We fired them off, our crops never withered.

Along came the wolf, death he swore.

He limped and lied to get through the door.

He consumed you with his intellectual abandon,

my back now unguarded, my heart saddened.

I tried for months to retake the hallowed ground,

but you were too far gone, never to be found.

Lost and spinning, exposing my nakedness,

I struggled grimacing, my life hard pressed

Then I saw her, evil disguised as purity.

Face of an angel, a heart that wasn’t free.

I came to her with my intentions pure,

she cast one glance, it was over for sure

All the passion I wished you to use,

now you found it, she was your muse

I drove on, looking at you secretly,

asking me to stay, your nakedness I see

To late, like fire spreading on water,

she flowed freely, around all your barter

Driving on into my own peril,

she would slay me with just one arrow

Entranced by her wiles, I followed her to hell,

but my back not guarded, I swiftly fell.

Barely I survived, held under the water of pain,

my lungs bursting to breath love again

Fire scorched and burned through all my nerves,

it never went out, smoldering in the curves

Struggling to gain ground, to get back to back again,

Back to back one day, I long for my friend.

Also published in Broowaha

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The Myth of Betrayal –

“Instead of being presented with stereotypes by age, sex, color, class, or religion, children must have the opportunity to learn that within each range, some people are loathsome and some are delightful.” ― Margaret Mead

yuhimebarbara

For the longest time I’ve written and mused about the betrayal of friends and lovers until TD Jakes said something that altered my view from here on out, “They never betrayed you because they were never your friends”. My mistake is that I put people who were never my friends in a place of trust and honor and shared with them secrets and insights from my deepest thoughts, which things were turned against me in due time and used to degrade, insult, and hurt me. But the mistake wasn’t theirs, it was mine for misunderstanding that there are different kinds of people that need to be categorized into different kinds of relationships. I’ll use the animal kingdom for an example. A wolf may kill a buzzard without a thought, therefore the buzzard treats the wolf with caution and flees, they don’t “hang out” together. This doesn’t make the wolf irrelevant because the wolf will create opportunities and lead the buzzard to food. As long as the buzzard realizes the limits of the relationship and stays within those confines, it’ll be safe, but if it mistakes this provision of food for proof of safety from the wolf, he will die one day and that quite suddenly. The lesson is this: Firstly, I must filter people into the correct category. Secondly, I must keep them there and never change the arrangement because of my feelings.

Why did I make this mistake to begin with? Because loneliness, low self-esteem, and a myriad of other psychological crap that’s followed me from my childhood makes me hungry for approval and friendship, and when I’m hungry, I’ll eat anything. People I know are bad for me have crept in by familiarity and the whip of loneliness has driven me to them for company and comfort. Another reason for my mistake is my spirituality. Being of tender heart and convinced I must do good for others, I’ve put myself in close proximity to dangerous and unpredictable people and mistook my desire to show them the love of God as accepting them and showing them I trust them, allowing them to access to my soul’s secrets and confidence. Everyone’s seen a video where a guy jumps a fence or reaches through it to pet a wild animal. The results are usually catastrophic and the thought comes to mind immediately, “What the hell were they thinking?”. There are no fences in life unless we put them there and no signs warning us unless we write them. I’m upset at myself for having gone this long without understanding this principal, however it’s never to late to learn, so here’s a mighty shove to push everyone away from me while I reevaluate the relationship we share.

First published in Opinions Of Eye

Evaporation –

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.” ― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

People are becoming an anathema to me. I drift farther away from compassion and concern, wishing to be left alone, weary from the drama that unfolds around me. I’m cutting off communication, slowly, to everyone and everything. My paranoia grows, beat back only by my deepening animosity for the general populace and the abandonment of care. Altruism evaporates, why waste my time being involved in the play by play drama being displayed by the second. I’m so tired of people, so tired of giving, so tired of caring, so tired of empathy. I’ve born the tears of thousands, lost on my knees in prayer, begging my unseen father in heaven to help these itinerants, the foremost of which is my naked and barren essence. I wash away the scabs of never healing wounds with tears that evaporate before they reach the outside. Depression and fear grow in the dark doubt of my soul, one way out I tell myself, just one way. Can you hear me God?

I can’t bear the cries of broken humanity any longer. Failure of my life to help even my family bears witness against me. I deserve to pray for nothing, if I can’t help myself out of this frothing mire of emotions, why call out in the fog to those adrift either by choice or captivity? The wolf chases me, he knows I’m weak, stumbling to get ahead of him. The panting steaming breath he breathes inspires me to run blindly ahead. There’s no help for me in this depression as I spend days fighting to feel happiness in situations where happiness should prosper, watching as it alludes my failing sight and clawing grasp. What would it be like without my festering insidious mind? I’m not my only enemy, there are spirits hungry for the kill that surround and howl. Come close as I gargle my last throttled breath and express my self deprecating disdain for the evil that has become the cancerous me. I don’t want sympathy, but only to realize that as this trees falls alone in the forsaken woods, that you may hear the snap of my aging trunk and know, if only for a short while, that I existed.

First published in Opinions Of Eye

Nemesis – Stalked From My Youth –

This poem depicts the spiritual entity that from my childhood, stalks me. I know him, he knows me, and the battle continues. I have one refuge, that of prayer. Wouldn’t you pray after seeing that the enemy’s power is far greater than your own?

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Prowling, eyes alert, glowing red’s the sign

That what stalks me, is a spiritual kind

All it’s attentions, frothing tongue a tell

With growls preaching, at me from hell

When it comes, the dark is it’s lair,

No matter where I go, it finds me there

Words of religion, it does completely despise

I’m never away, from those deep red eyes.

Related Post: Hour of the Wolf – Wrestling With 3 A.M.
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Hour Of The Wolf – Wrestling with 3 a.m.

“Have you ever heard of the hour of the wolf? My father told me about it. It’s the time between 3:00 and 4:00 in the morning. You can’t sleep, and all you can see is the troubles and the problems and the ways that your life should’ve gone but didn’t...The wolf and I are now on a first-name basis. In times like this, my father used to take one large glass of vodka before bed. To keep the wolf away, he said. And then he would take three very small drinks of vodka, just in case she had cubs while she was waiting outside. It doesn’t work.”

—Susan Ivanova

americanparkour – nate

We are old adversaries, 3 a.m. and I, from my youth we’ve struggled together. Many are the battles, endured, survived. Everything is clear with nowhere to hide from my thoughts, from my past, from my heart. Lying awake at 3, reality is raw, my thoughts accusing, blaming, vindictive. Who can stand alone with 3 a.m.? Hauntings begin, things I thought were dead, coming to life. Now I call out a battle cry against this loathsome time.

“3, you sought my life, mercilessly slaying my peace, wracking my soul with dread at having to face you, again, again, and again, always there.
Come let’s wrestle again. I’ve survived this long, now I’ll be victorious over you.”

(She walks behind me, wrapping me in her arms and laying her head against my shoulder, the warmth from her body, comforting.)

“Come, let’s contend again. I’m smiling at you, not from a drunken stupor, a drug induced high, or a crazed insanity, but from a strength born of hope. Come 3, come and try me again.”

(I find myself smiling contentedly at my lover. Her soft smile shows me that I make her happy, but not nearly as happy as she has made me.)

“Come loneliness, will you wrestle with me now in this early morning? Come pain, can we contend with each other now?”

(She whispers her love in my ear)

“Despair, you miserable ally of 3, you have held me captive so many times, now I challenge you, armed with peace and contented love, weapons procured from Jah, my heavenly father through my lover.”

(She calls my name from the room, her sweet soft voice, inspiring me with feelings of fulfillment)

“Be warned 3, my strength is not of this world, enabling me with full power to run through you. You shout your threats, saying you will win at the last, but, I have tenacity, born from battles innumerable, born from long nights of war, brutal conflicts, with you.”

(I go in to her, holding my lover close, smiling, the sun peeking through the windows, a witness to the victory)

I raise my hands, and call to my friends, “Take courage, you can win over this ancient nemesis! 3 a.m. need never threaten you again.”

Related Post: Nemesis – Stalked From My Youth

Also published in Broowaha

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Hour Of The Wolf – Wrestling with 3 a.m.

“Have you ever heard of the hour of the wolf? My father told me about it. It’s the time between 3:00 and 4:00 in the morning. You can’t sleep, and all you can see is the troubles and the problems and the ways that your life should’ve gone but didn’t...The wolf and I are now on a first-name basis. In times like this, my father used to take one large glass of vodka before bed. To keep the wolf away, he said. And then he would take three very small drinks of vodka, just in case she had cubs while she was waiting outside. It doesn’t work.”

—Susan Ivanova

americanparkour – nate

Related Post: Nemesis – Stalked From My Youth

Also published in Broowaha

040511