surrender

Lately I've been vacillating between despair and anger at the Great Unveiling. 

Yes, yes indeed. The prophets and artists have been right: 

We are the selfish [illegitimate children] we always suspected. We are the enthusiastic consumers of [bovine excrement] we always knew ourselves to be. We are the fatted, obese golden calf, leaking methane from our [hind cavities], from up here on the [deifically-condemned] pedestals we've fashioned out of the blood and bones of the weak and poor. We are the [fornicating with abandon] racists creating division from unity—making ashes out of beauty.

Now the ugly votes we've long placed with our wallets have been confirmed. We have voted with our ballot-boxes to affirm our [fornicating with abandon] identity as a class of Babylonian [sex workers]. 

This is us. 

How do I talk about us? How do I get what I feel out into the world? 

I wrote A SCREENPLAY and posted it online, but the feelings were still there. I whined to my wife, but the feelings rose again. 

This morning, though, I watched A VIDEO that reminded me what I had to do. "Surrender," it was called. Surrender! it cried out, in the voice of a man who had ascended from the darkness of heroin and pain. An honest man. A man who, unlike me, is unafraid to say [fornicating with abandon], when [fornicating with abandon] is what he means to say.

So I will cheer him on, and I will let go a little of the illusion of control. 

I will watch the one-footed sparrow on my feeder twitch and feed... beauty and pain all swirled together in one, glorious moment. 

I will surrender what I never really had in the first place.