The Leaving – The Stories in Between

My little girl pleaded for me not to go. That was the hardest moment of my life, looking down at those big blue teary eyes, ripping me apart with every sob. I was shook by the memory of the words I had told her when this all began. All the nights I held her close, promising I would never leave her, that I would always be there to keep her safe. She’s too young to understand but this is the only thing left for me to do for her. If I go now, her and her mother will have their names moved to the bottom of the list. So this is my love for her, my final gift. A little more time.

I stand in line with over six hundred others on this morning. The way it has been since the onset of the event. Hundreds, thousands of people, day after day, herded like cattle across the platform and on board the waiting vessels. From the beginning they had made their intentions clear. They would take those willing to go first and then the rest would be taken systematically by force. Everyone who has been part of the leaving, so far, has gone voluntarily. This willingness to sacrifice themselves so others could remain has given me a renewed faith in humanity. Never in the span of human history had all the people of the world come together like this, with a common goal, a common sacrifice. And through this faith I recognize the hope I had thought lost.

As we near the entrance to the vessel, I look to the man at my right, then the woman to my left. We each instinctively reach for the others hand. With fingers locked, hand in hand, as brother and sister, we step aboard and leave this world behind.

My last breath is a breath sweet with the belief that those who remain will come together and find a way. All they need is a little more time.

clock 2


This will be my final post at Morality Park.  I would like to thank everyone who has supported my work at the park, there are a lot of great writers and readers here and you are all appreciated.  The Stories in Between

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An Uncivil Discourse – The Stories in Between

I would give everything to you if I thought it would make any difference. You can have it all, I’ve held on to it long enough. But what would you do with it? Would you piss it away, day after day in self pity through self loathing? Would you continue to walk around with that mirror, facing everyone but yourself? Imposing your self righteous judgment, showing them all their imperfections while hiding behind, unexposed, weak, afraid. Afraid of what you have to offer. Afraid of taking responsibility for your part in all this. Your false narrative is one I have heard before, even taken part in. Your judgment and moral superiority are as hollow as the eyes of the mob you follow. Your own hypocrisy will turn on you one day. Your divisiveness, anger, hate will silence you. Your self imposed group identity will destroy you- the individual. But that is all OK because you will always find someone else to blame.

I admit now I was wrong, there is understanding in me, but I hold true to the fact I have little sympathy for your uncivil discourse.

Stay then, with the others, if that’s what it takes to get you through your day. If not, then you are welcome to put it all down and walk with me. I will love you but nothing will be spared.

Kicking and screaming, we strip away the dependence to label and categorize. When everything is no longer anything, it just is, as it will be. Neither for or against you. You will breathe a sigh of relief at the unrecognizable. Differences erode and with enough time, finally, there will be nothing left to set aside.

Then what will you do with all your time?

protest 1

 

 

 

protest 3

 

protest 4

 

protest 2

 

police

 


More can be found at The Stories in Between

What’s Yours is Mine – The Stories in Between

Look me in the eye

As you lick

That indifference

From your lips

 

Better yet

Let me

Taste what it’s like

The bitter apathy

And lies

Stinging my tongue

I’ll choke it down

For it’s better

On the inside

 

Now my love

Tangle in this embrace

Part those sweet lips

Press against mine

Your tongue quivers

At what I have to offer

Do you recognize this

Or can you not see

Past yourself

As I give back

What is yours

 

I cower

In understanding

And watch you

Smother

In your safe space

The only constant

Is my regret

As I return

For more

Again and again


More can be found at The Stories in Between

Our Time is Brief – The Stories in Between

The Stories In Between

Yeah, I remember the first time I saw her. Sitting on the edge of my bed, envelope in hand. She said it contained the answer to everything. And she was more than willing to give it to me.

Pacing with the blade of knowledge to my throat, I didn’t want the responsibility. If I knew, I’d have to give up all this. Then what would I do with my time? What if it’s just a god damn photograph? This is exactly the kind of shit I try to avoid. I know she’s not going to wait forever. But I can’t look, not right now.

I suppose I would have to tell everyone else. Or fuck them, why do they deserve to know? I could become a prophet, a modern day messiah . . . or a motivational speaker, those people make all kinds of money and they’re full of shit…

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Let Go – The Stories in Between

My hands scrape the cold ground

Digging for the final exhale

Which to shake the Earth

Punish time

Take this down

Stripped to naked regret

Upon my dead shore

The last remains

To be seen

 

Let go

Of the benign

Indifference

You hold in your mouth

We are ghosts

In this place

With nothing

To haunt

Our time punished

Through broken lens

Without understanding

 

We all let go

Sometimes

Or try to

Attempted facade

A slow dance

Running from dreams

A lethargic assault

Tumbling over

The broken

And reckless

Until the time

We are caught

In stillness

In understanding

In difference

 

What do you see?

Nothing

I caress your cheek

Explore your eyes

 

We really don’t know

Do we?

 


More from the author can be found at The Stories in Between

Ocean Side – The Stories in Between

Quietly I lay beside

A stricken moon beam, at ocean side

Feel it breaking, tremble inside

Do you hear me cry the oceans tide

 

Can you hear me

Can you see me

 

I feel you breaking

A silent fracture, Torn in time

Are you beside me

Reaching for that, Which you can’t find

 

Wait for me

It all ends soon, I promise you

Walk beside me

Hand in hand to the ocean’s moon

 

Can you hear me

Can you see me

Can you feel me

 

moon

 


Originally posted at The Stories in Between

When You Understand – The Stories In Between

And sometimes we adopt these casualties as if they were our own, in the darkest of times, during the only thing we know as real. Finally we struggle to give it away but the most painful of realizations is the moment when we understand this is ours to keep. I will open your eyes to the death of innocence. There is a truth in my anger, an outstretched grasping hand. There is little sympathy in this place, and even less understanding. We are all washed as clean as we can get. But save the dirt and praise tomorrow because it all makes no difference.

Do you want me to really show you something? Really? Because I can. But you may not like what you see. If you want me to, I can turn this whole thing inside out and pull what you thought was reality away, piece by broken piece, then maybe, just maybe, you might have something to say.

 


More from this author can be found at The Stories In Between