You say that you loved me,

but your absence spoke loudly.

It's hard to comprehend

how you didn't stand proudly.

When I made my life shine,

you kept your distance still.

When my life imploded,

you left a hole to be filled.

I needed your counsel,

but mostly, I needed you.

I needed your presence,

to help me make it through.

Whatever your reasons,

they died along with you.

No hope now for some day

to be good enough for you.

You buried your father

with the same realization.

Now I carry the burden,

the undeserved shame

Of knowing my father

did not really want me;

No other conclusion

your absence has taught me.

May 17, 2023

Hey, y'all. I know we haven't talked in a while, but now it's my turn to check out of your life. I'm disappearing for a while. I'm sure you don't actually care where I'm going or even how long I'll be gone. Just know that I'm out. Thanks for all the pain you've brought to my life over the last few years. I plan on using it as a basis for a new novel. Call it fictionalized reality, if you will. I doubt I could dream this stuff up without you first making it true. If in the future you decide you want to hear about what's happened in my life, don't bother calling. You can catch up with me by buying my novel. I'm sure you'll recognize who you are in the story (hint: you're either a minor character or an antagonist). If you don't recognize someone in the story, it's probably someone you've never met. You don't know who I love now. I haven't figured the whole story out yet. If the protagonist lives in the end, maybe you'll see me again. Otherwise, don't bother looking. Ciao!

Du-dum, du-dum, du-dum,

My heart races wildly.

The pounding in my ears

Grows louder, and louder.

It's coming.

My chest squeezes tightly,

Punctuated with pain.

A constrictor of fear

Steals my life-giving breath.

It's coming.

Stand my ground and battle?

Or flee to shake the foe?

My mind races quickly,

But endless thoughts unhinge.

It's coming.

"Be rational! Calm down!"

I command, unheeded.

"Breathe deeply, and let go,"

A pointless order, too.

It's coming.

My eyes covered darkly.

My ears extinguish sound.

Escape this existence,

I seek my happy place.

It's coming.

No control? It wakens.

Distant fears? It rises.

Pressing crowds? It appears.

Lost hopes? It shows its face.

It's finally here.

Panic envelops me.

It overwhelms, consumes.

It steals the man I am.

I lie broken inside.

Hades is here.

Soon, I rise, strength returned.

Hell will not hold me down.

It had its moment, but

I draw my inner peace.

I am here.

Until Hades returns.

Free speech is a misnomer. We Americans are so obsessed by money that we apply economic terms to non-monetary things. Hell, in the '60s we even deluded ourselves into thinking love was free. Love always costs us something, even if it's worth everything we give.

Speech, too, always costs us something. It is never free. Speech can cost us our reputations, our friends, our livelihood...even our freedom. Now, that's ironic!

Thinking ourselves somehow above the baseness of punishing speech, we Americans remember Voltaire for his political dissent. It earned him time in the Bastille, on several occasions. We remember Fyodor Dostoyevsky who dared to challenge Russian political elites. He faced a mock execution and excruciatingly harsh imprisonment for his "free speech." We pat ourselves on the back as an enlightened culture that celebrates free speech. But do we really?

Let's ask William Lloyd Garrison, jailed in the late 1800s for his free speech condemning slavers (they called it libel). Or Emma Goldman who was arrested for opposing conscription during WW I. What about Rose Pastor Stokes who was sentenced to ten years for writing in a private letter, "I am for the people and the government is for the profiteers"? Not even private criticism is free.

Oh, we're far more advanced now, you might argue. But are we really? Isn't our "cancel culture" on the ass end of a wave of very public cancelations for free speech? At least I hope we're nearing the end. Still, some in society will always be intolerant of difference, no matter what it says to the contrary.

Nevertheless, those with the boldness to say what others will not, to voice dissent, to point out injustice, to spark rigorous debate by sharing contrary views...these people count the cost first, and willingly pay it. These speech pioneers are often measured harshly while they live, but then posthumously championed for their courage.

Today we honor such champions of "free speech": the Founding Fathers, William Gladstone, Susan B. Anthony, Martin Luther King Jr., Mohandas Gandhi, Alexei Navalny. Each of these courageous people paid a high price for their disruptive speech, and it would dishonor them to call their speech free. For some of them, it cost everything.

Let me throw out a caution flag, though. Honoring free speech is not the same thing as defending verbal vomit. Some people really ought to shut their pie holes. They ought to count the cost of spewing their mental cesspools into our ear holes.

Some speech must be disruptive because, well, much deserves to be disrupted. But some things are better left unsaid. Or unthought. We might all benefit by following this little nugget of wisdom shared with me a few years ago--"Before speaking, ask yourself these two questions: Is it kind? Is it necessary?" If the answer is "no" to either one, well then...zip it!

Disruptive speech is absolutely necessary, and it very well may be kind. It's far kinder to speak up against injustice than to let it continue unhindered. But not all speech is kind and necessary, and in these occasions things are better left unsaid.

We don't have to open our mouths to confirm others' sneaky suspicions that we're fools (wise words, Prez Abe!). We won't say everything right, but that's okay. We simply must recognize that our words are costly. And if our words are costly, then let's let them count for something real. Let's let them shake social apathy. Let's let them disrupt the status quo. Let's let them rescue the oppressed and defend the defenseless.

Perhaps if we first count the cost, we won't speak so freely. Perhaps if we comprehend that speech is costly, we'll be sure we make our words count.

I'm a man of few words.

But when I speak, I want my words to count.

So, I think deeply about what to say,

How to express my thoughts in the best way.

Then I take out my paintbrush—-the keyboard—

And dip into the well of my heart.

Using the precious pigments of pain, joy, and hope,

I trace an outline of thought.

Combining light and darkness,

I create shades of meaning.

My subject is sometimes obvious.

But, often I use the background

To draw one's eye to the subject.

My subject sometimes lies in rhythm and rhyme,

Sometimes in fantasy and lore,

Sometimes in pontification.

Yet, every pixelated word, every crafted line,

Seeks to inspire, to motivate, to heal.

God's command that we love one another is nothing new. In Leviticus 19:18 He commanded his people to love each other, 1500 years before Jesus' incarnation. Jesus had even said that this earlier commandment was second only in importance to the command to love the LORD your God (Matthew 22:39). So, why then did Jesus say he was giving a new command? What is so new about our mandate to love each other?

What's new is the standard behind the love. The old commandment's standard was to love others "as you love yourself." We like to use ourselves as a measurement. After all, we could justify not loving someone else by claiming we don't even like ourselves. So, Jesus elevated the standard. Now, we are to love others as Jesus loves us. That standard can't be manipulated. It's a completely selfless, self-sacrificing, and unconditional love.

Jesus also said that others would know whether or not we follow him based on our love for others (John 13:35). Our church attendance, scripture quoting, tithing, and the myriad other "religious" things we do don't demonstrate our faith. It's our Christ-like love for others that shows we are disciples of Jesus. It's the Samaritan rescuing, leper healing, adulterer forgiving love of Jesus. It's the kind of love that compels us to lay down our very lives, even to rescue those who hate us.

That's not just a new commandment, it's also a new and superior kind of love! Lord knows, this world could use a little more love like this. Two thousand years and counting, and we still haven't figured out how to love like Jesus did. Maybe we ought to try something...well, new!

I woke up this morning in a fog,

The watery mist hiding the landscape

In its heavy shroud.

Every pathway obscured,

Every anticipation silenced by the oppressive cloud.

Then, the silence and obscurity awakened in me,

A finger of hope.

Reaching out through the blank canvas,

Painting vivid pictures of a world not seen.

No more thought of what is,

But what could be.

Pathways winding through the hopeful forest of my imagination,

This fog now quiets the clamor of noise

That distracts my mind.

Awakening beautiful thoughts

To emerge from their sleepy depths,

Into the peaceful silence of the misty fog.

for her

Pressed by sharp needle through tender skin,

The tattooer's ink spreads slowly over pale canvas.

Squirming morbidly, stifling cries, anxious to escape.

Bolstered by hope, the artist's scene emerges proudly.

Affixed forever, a badge bearing both memory and meaning.

Quickly laid, yet time fades both ink and memory.

Ghostly impressions telling half-truths.

Not so, the heart canvas, bearing both scars and artistry.

Old wounds, healed over but sometimes bleeding,

Etch the recess of the war-weary heart.

Yet, from the scarred landscape emerge traces of beauty,

Laid delicately, tenderly with indelible ink.

Barren landscape turned verdant,

Lush with hope and blooming with love.

No mirage, this fertile oasis springs up,

Tended and watered with gentle, yet fervent care.

No nameless respite from life's many cares,

This garden of desire, tattooed on my heart,

Is indelibly inked by you.