Its' been...
Difficult.
Life, that is. Just living - like we thought would be best, turns out to be the most difficult thing to do in the end.
There have been walls up everywhere where, before, it appeared there were open doors. Subcultures apparently weighing me and measuring me and finding that I have always been lacking. And that I should go back where I came from.
Is this what you think of me, city? Is this was you see of us? Is this all you have to say?
But she does not answer. She merely sits silently, gazing on with watery eyes in mild disamusemen. But no discontent. No discord. No attempt to reprimand her rasher portions.
Where, my love, have we gone wrong? What did we miss? What map did we not look at? Which road did we not travel on to get here?
What makes us so different that we ought to be measured up and judged for a thing we are not. And how or can we stop them.
Perhaps God is in it all, anyway. Growing something that had previously never been grown in us. Tearing something that needed to be torn. Changing things that had never been considered able to change.
All we can do is pray for that.
And voice our voice and hope that someone is still really listeneing.
Life, that is. Just living - like we thought would be best, turns out to be the most difficult thing to do in the end.
There have been walls up everywhere where, before, it appeared there were open doors. Subcultures apparently weighing me and measuring me and finding that I have always been lacking. And that I should go back where I came from.
Is this what you think of me, city? Is this was you see of us? Is this all you have to say?
But she does not answer. She merely sits silently, gazing on with watery eyes in mild disamusemen. But no discontent. No discord. No attempt to reprimand her rasher portions.
Where, my love, have we gone wrong? What did we miss? What map did we not look at? Which road did we not travel on to get here?
What makes us so different that we ought to be measured up and judged for a thing we are not. And how or can we stop them.
Perhaps God is in it all, anyway. Growing something that had previously never been grown in us. Tearing something that needed to be torn. Changing things that had never been considered able to change.
All we can do is pray for that.
And voice our voice and hope that someone is still really listeneing.
2 Thought(s):
There are others still listening. One voice added to another...
The chorus of humanity is the strongest chorus of all. And yet, it is the greatest shame that we do not allow that chorus to echo - that we stifle our voices under the weight of what we think the world might think of us.
If only we believed in the good that we could become.
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