I had my war. I laid down at gunpoint too many times.
I sampled fear and turned fearless in one day.
I took a ride to the other side not by drugs or fasting or breathing weirdly . . . but by living with abandon.
And the other side taught me all that was needed, all that would be repeated for decades hence.
Sometimes ignored. Sometimes snuggled up close.
In the form of children one day. In the form of lovers. In an insect the next. A sunset. Then a pile of rocks adjusted so by prophets not knowing their profiteering.
And histories came alive with the same stories as mine. My ideas coming through thousands of others and theirs through my one widely curving lens.
This is done and un-done. The way it should be and has always been. Not my story. Not my war. All of it pretending to be mine in a shocking moment of
damn this tooth hurts,
another root canal on the way,
can’t get out of the present moment,
reality of the meat puppet over the clever soul.
The warranty on these parts expires quickly and slowly.
(Original artwork by Jameson Dunn)