The Echoe Loudens

This is a raw poem from a very dark time in my life. I have decided to leave it unedited. These are raw feelings and I have decided to leave them raw.

There is in me a pain, a pain that cannot be healed. For the pain is not of brokenness, but of un-wholeness.

Our hearts are a drum with three chambers surrounding our love. Our love is the hammer. Each time we love our hearts are beaten, and the chambers echo. But the echo is pain, it reminds us of what is not there. Echoes only happen in empty places, our hearts where not meant to be empty. There are only two ways to stop the echo. One way to stop the echo is to stop the hammer, I have tried this, but I could not stop loving, I would have to die to stop loving.

The other way to stop the echo is to fill the chambers. The three chambers are various sizes and shapes, and each can be filled by only one thing; there is a whole that can only be filled by God, this is where the Holy Spirit lives. There is also a chamber that can be filled only by you, it is the smallest of all, this is the place for self esteem.

Last is the chamber made for Eros, and can only be filled by "true love". This is where the echo in me lives. It reminds me that I am not full, that my Eros is empty. And it hurts, it is painful beyond words, to have such an emptiness in me. I have tried to medicate the pain, but no matter how hard I looked I could find no companion, no friend, or mentor, to join me in the echo, and help me in my pain. Until now. My prayers have finally been answered, I cried out to The Lord and He has answered my plea. He has given me a companion, a friend to be closer than a brother, that I can be True with, not simply Honest, but True. I now have a person whom I can be completely open with laying every thought bare, and every intention. This is a richos friendship. I now finally, after all my payers for a friend, God has given me a sister.

More pain, the echo gets louder.

I now have someone with whom I can Philia. But that also cannot be, for now instead of my own pain and fear standing between me and the answer to my prayers, my mother does so, fearing that my grate Philia which I have waited for so long will become Eros. It is impossible for me to deny my heart, but it is equally impossible to deny my mother.

The echo grows and will not be silent.

So here, now, in the midst of the growing agony, my aching heart is torn from outside, by two hands, both pull in the name of my heart, one is the hand of my mother, pulling me away from that which she sees as a threat. The other is a hand made up of several wills, my will, to rejoice in the finding of a long sought friend, the will of my 'sister', to rejoice on my behalf, and another will from somewhere deeper, I think within myself, though I cannot be sure.

Still the echo loudens.

As my heart is pulled the chamber stretches, and grows.

Now the echo feels like breaking, the splitting of the bark before the branch snaps. I do not know where the branch will snap, nor where the broken parts will land.

All I know now is pain, and I don't want to think about it.

But if I lie and tell myself there is no pain, there is no breaking, when I, the branch, finally snaps, I will be caught un-prepared to ketch the pieces. Indeed if I do lie to myself, I will be unable to heal, whatever the outcome of my agony.

So still through it all there is still the echo, an echo reminding me of love in fulfilled, an echo telling of what may be ahead. Who would have thought that an echo could hurt so much? And who knows what to do when my heart is being pulled, being broken, by two I love dearly?

The echo loudens and deepens as if to penetrate the core of my heart, I feel that when the echo gets there I, will break.

Be wary of echoes, and always listen to what they tell you.

And still the echo loudens.

A very broken

Tim

Impromptu Thoughts On Abortion

I may throw a wrench into things with this but this is what I believe to be true.

I think the question is a dodge; an attempt to rephrase the subject in such a manner thatis debatable. “Is that flesh alive?” or even “Does it have a soul?”, aren't really the question. The question should be “Can we prove that it's not alive?” It's not a matter of if it's dead; if it is, then we can't kill it let alone murder it. But can we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the fetus is not a human being with a soul whom we would be murdering to remove and tear apart? Is it reasonable, is it conscionable, to kill that which we can not be sure is dead? If they are right it doesn't matter. If they are wrong however, as most of us believe them to be, for admittedly religious reasons, then they are the worst of murderers and vile human beings who have committed the most heinous crime that can be committed against another human in the taking of a life which is not yet blemished by sins (sin nature is another issue) which has done you no wrong, and with no means of defending themselves. How can we look upon the holocaust and say that was evil and yet be blinded by cheap rhetoric and clever restatement of the issue when it comes to the murder of tens of thousands of innocent human lives. Will we be silent while the hammer of justice denies it's duty? No! We must climb the arm of the legislature, walk along the bridge of law, and jump upon the hammer of American justice until the hand that holds it up becomes too weary to with hold justice from those who deserve it.