Already Dead

It has been two years, three months and give or take a few days, since I have been shot. Though as the years progress I still fear that the future that I desire for my children to have will be extinct, only recognized as a dream that I once had. The future that consisted of people just being people agreeing to disagree, and a bitter sweet taste of the fruit that grows on the other side of the tree. But the reoccurrences of meeting face to face with the walking dead are beginning to happen far too often now. You are aware that we walk among the un-living? Among people who feel that there is absolutely nothing wrong with hurting innocent people. Among people who find pleasure in a stranger's demise. This species of people no longer possess the emotion to feel, because they are already dead...Somewhere after they lost the innocence that they once possessed as a small child, they became influenced and misguided. And we, you know the ''living,'' some of us have either striven to show compassion, or proven their reasoning for choosing to be without love, to be right and justifiable.  We do this by simply segregating ourselves from the ''strange'' and ''uncommon'' folk that society may or may not evaluate before considering them to be okay to walk on the same brown dirt that most don't even acknowledge. Only by then they are already disassociated with the rest, and have turned to something and or someone that is so common and familiar to how they feel, forgotten and neglected. They become the living dead. Who are we then, if we never attempted to reach out to them fast enough? Though there is only so many tiny hours in a day that you may not see the end of.

Could You tell that I Follow Him?

If I wore rings and tattoos from head to toe, would that grant the rest of the world the opportunity to know? If I hung with darkness who killed and stole, would that imply that there is only darkness in my soul? Yet, "who do the people say I am?"(Luke 9:18). Would they know that I followed Him? Or do I hide Him behind the words that I speak? Through talks of sweet seduction and revenge, grant full satisfaction and pleasure, yet talks of God makes stomachs weak. Becoming caught up into this spiritual warfare that we wage, still blaming our ignorance on our spiritual maturity age. And God's disappointments we blame on the devil, so we find ourselves digging our own graves with the Lord's shovel. And that Sword that gives us wisdom of life, we choose not to use, instead we cut with our toungs man-made knowledge that we abuse. Could you tell us in a crowd of one million, as worshippers that give God all praises? Or would we be camoflaged by our action supporting drunken foolery in places where hell raises? Could you tell that I follow You? That every night I get on my knees to pray? Or do you ignore it because you know that I will hurt you the following day? It's Satan that I would rather not meet. Yet the closer I seek to find you, the more I feel his heat. You sent your son to take our place, and still our transgressions seem hard to face. And through this dark pathway that is quite often cold and dim, I will see the brighter side because I know I follow Him.

After While

Just starting to let it all sink in. Though life has brought forth to me many enemies, down the line I made some friends. I'm swimming the deep in, and even though nobody knows I'm breathing, I'm saying goodbye to high and dry. That's when I'm going to get up, and never look down. Though I'm standing still, the world still turns around. And even though it still stings just a little, through your pain there lies a smile. So breathe in and breathe out, and know it gets better after while.

The Blessings we Miss

Our hurt drags us half pass the point of giving up. Though some of us, don't even need the hurt to give up. "But why God? Why did you put me there at that time? What did that young man do to be killed only minutes away from his home? Why couldn't the family have smelt the smoke that led them to their untimely death?" We ask these questions with such confusion in our hearts. This same confusion that blinds us from God's love, and binds us from receiving all the blessings that He has in store for us. We all have our purpose under the sun. The minute we forget this very fact, is the minute we become enslaved to a life full of hopeless wounders and doubt. Where would we be if our Savior asked these questions: But why Father? Why do you tell me to carry such a heavy burden, for those who do not love you? Why do I have to make such a sacrifice to those who only wish to remove your name? Why couldn't we just leave such a wicked world to wait for their untimely death?...Let us not mourn for those who are now at rest. Holding our heads up high until we meet again, away from the wages of sin, hurt, and everlasting stress.

The Shattered Picture

Was I mistaken to have thought that the world knew of a common courtesy to treat a person with respect. Am I Naive to have believed that as long as I walked the paths less taken that I would never have to embrace the hard winds that so often knock me over into a stumbling confusion. Yet here I lay, picturing myself with the young man who intentionally tried to take my last breath. We are but two children, conversing about what and/or who we are going to be when we grow up. We are laughing because we feel so invincible to danger, and we just know that we have our whole lives before we ever come face to face to hurt, sickness and defeat. But, now we are terrified, because we know that soon the day will come where all of our fears that we never acknowledged, now become the reality. In an instance this picture is shattered by a deathly pain in my left hand. Should I then try to reach out to him with my right? Perhaps he too could picture that the grass is greener on the other side. Or am I naive to even try. Who would that make me if I just let him die?

Substantially Big

Life is such a beautiful, complicated and strange thing that God has blessed us with. Each day we wake up, hoping to embrace only the good things that lie within the unknown. We are all unique in one way or another, however we live in a society that says we have to be rich or do something substantially big to be remembered when we leave this life behind. How will the world remember me? This thought perhaps entertained my mind as I laid there in a puddle of my own blood, wondering if what had just happened to me, was something that I dreamt. Though, considering the deathly pain I was in, I figured no pinch of the highest decimal could top what  I was feeling, so unfortunately I couldn’t be woken up from the nightmare I wished it was. The nightmare that I dreamed of as a small child was now my adult reality. I had become a victim to a man who in life, hated me because of the color of my skin. Now that’s substantially big! How will the world remember him? Some will say he was a young man that was confused and depressed, and relied on negative influences to make him feel superior and secure. Others will rejoice in his loss, but will have  beveling emotions because he decided to take another’s life, before considering his own. What do I say? I’m unsure of what his emotional and/or psychological status was, but there was a lot that could be seen behind the barrel of an old shotgun, besides a young white man who was passionate about what he stood for. There were cries between each line to be read, as he gave a brief speech about Adolf Hitler’s birthday, before calling me a “nigger” and pulling the trigger. Maybe there was a cry for help, but the world was too busy waiting for someone to do something substantially big. Take a look around. The strongest ones are those who society view as incapable. But we are all capable, to do what feels good to the soul, we are capable to love. How will the world remember me? Do I want to be remembered by saving people’s lives? Or perhaps, simply being a follower of Christ. Only if These Brown Walls Could Talk.