How’s it going y’all? So over the last couple days I’ve let my emotions cool towards several things. The other night I was watching an episode of a show called fight world on Netflix. They examine the culture and beliefs of different martial arts around the world. The episode I was watching dealt with Krav Maga a type of Isreali self-defense system. One of the most effective in the world in my opinion… in the episode there were a blend of Muslim, Christian, and Jewish practitioners.
All training and interacting as brothers… In the episode one of the instructors mentions how his wife had been in a health emergency of some type that was serious. All his students went to the hospital to pray for him and his wife. Muslim, Christian, Jewish… they were all brothers. I find myself thinking that perhaps there is truth to the latin phrase “Si vis pacem parabellum” If you want peace, prepare for war.
Perhaps it’s by preparing for the worst that we can become the best of ourselves. I felt very spiritually touched by this episode and to be honest it had me reflecting on one of my favorite poems by Dylan Thomas. “Do not go gentle into that good night.” As I read back through this poem and reflected on it in conjunction with the episode about Krav Maga I had several thoughts. There are a few lines in this poem that reference how the older generation upon their leaving look back wistfully upon the could have beens and what ifs. Then again, poetry IS art and art is open to interpretation. This could simply be my interpretation…
I’d like to think personally that perhaps my generation embodies all the hopes, dreams and ambitions our parents and grandparents had for themselves and by extension for us. They have their regrets and what ifs, however I think they wish the best for us all. So perhaps I can cut the generations before mine a little bit of slack.
I think as well that wisdom doesn’t necessarily require advanced age to acquire. Rather, life gives us hard lessons wherein we can choose to learn from them gaining both experience and wisdom. I’ve debated against posting this next poem. Not because I’m ashamed of it, rather because it shows a dark side of my psyche I’m actively working on changing. I’d say though that good art is meant to shock, to inspire, to be debated and found by others when it’s needed most.
With that in mind I’d like to present one of my newer pieces. I call it shattered chapel, beautiful soul.
PTSD memories tryna’ take the best of me.
Try telling me suicide and self-harm isn’t the way.
When y’all were the ones pointing the gun in my face.
Rackin’ rounds in the mag of repressed anger and rage.
Should’ve been in drama the way my issues and demons have danced together onstage.
Sitting in bed, curtains pulled tight.
Racked rounds in the mag, then loaded the gun.
Placed hot iron in my hand and said with straight face, “You’ll be fine son.”
Sitting here now on cold bathroom floor; depressed and looking at ceiling tiles.
Thin blue ribbons of smoke breathed from my lips.
Reflecting; sad, that intoxicating smoke brings out the young man y’all repressed.
Why could neither of you ever see?
The hurt and pain you both inflicted on me…
PTSD memories, tryna take the best of me…
You racked the rounds, you loaded the gun.
Placed barrel against skull with my finger; trembling on trigger.
Perception of me dull and outdated; just like your views.
Sitting, atop church pews; stained glass shards scattered about.
Sun beaming into shattered chapel of my soul.
My life IS chaos, but you and my demons aren’t an audience to be entertained.
You may have loaded the gun; I’ll never pull the trigger.
Note from the author
– ; –
This poem was written as a group of several metaphors personifying the complicated, at times abusive relationship I’ve had with my parents. The two times PTSD memories trying to take the best of me are mentioned is a nod to the fact that those memories and hyperfixating on them robbed me of so much potential joy.
The gun they’re loading is a metaphor for depression, being loaded with repressed, painful memories. I love both my parents, however due to some of their behavior I’ve struggled massively with my own mental health. Their actions direct, or indirect caused trauma. No doubt about that… however in the end I kept going. I think beauty and some of life’s most triumphant victories come after periods of great emotional hardship. After all, we all have to rage against the dying of the light and fight our own battles…
Holy Water, Burning Man 