I am inspired by what is happening with the “Me too” campaign, and to some extent what has transpired with football players during the national anthem. I say to some extent, because to me kneeling during this time shows unrelenting respect for the flag and the country. I feel the objective of the protest has been taken out of context, minimized and belittled with righteous pettiness.
We are basically saying even though there is vanilla and chocolate, you can only choose vanilla, because choosing chocolate is the wrong thing to do.
This country is amazing and great because it was founded with the right to express opinions and thought with freedom and safety. What does it take for every single person to get that? Even the individuals expressing decent are using this principle. What is it about freedom and freedom of expression that naysayers aren’t getting?
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This poem was written by Mark Richerby. It expresses how I feel today.
If we are fortunate,
we are given a warning.
there is only the sudden horror,
the wrench of being torn apart;
of being reminded that nothing is permanent,
not even the ones we love,
the ones our lives revolve around.
Life is a fragile affair.
We are all dancing on the edge of a precipice,
a dizzying cliff so high we can’t see the bottom.
One by one,
we lose those we love most into the dark ravine.
So we must cherish them without reservation.
We will lose them or they will lose us someday.
This is certain.
There is no time for bickering.
And their loss will leave a great pit in our hearts;
a pit we struggle to avoid during the day and fall into at night.
unable to accept this loss,
unable to determine the worth of life without them,
jump into that black pit spiritually or physically,
hoping to find them there.
And some survive the shock,
the barren, empty aching,
the unanswered prayers,
the sleepless nights
when their breath is crushed
under the weight of silence
and all that it means.
Somehow, some survive all that and,
like a flower opening after a storm,
they slowly begin to remember the one they lost in a different way…
the irrepressible spirit,
the generous heart,
the way their smile made them feel,
the encouragement they gave even as their own dreams were dying.
And in time, they fill the pit with other memories
the only memories that really matter.
We will still cry.
We will always cry.
But with loving reflection
more than hopeless longing.
And that is how we survive.
That is how the story should end.
That is how they would want it to be.