The Rebel’s Prelude


Happy Friday one and all!

Hopefully the week has been a reflective one, and has treated you all fairly decently. Yupp I’m back at it too apparently. In my case a poem a day, keeps the head at bay. Have a fantastic weekend!

The Rebel’s Prelude

But I’m a writer, not a fighter,
He said.
We all have to start somewhere,
She said.
Start a revolution?!
He exclaimed.
No, be the voice of reason,
That’s died out,
And has been one everyone has
secretly been seeking out.
She explained.
But why me?
Why do I have to be the one
to lead?
He questioned.
Why not you?
She countered.
Have you not suffered?
A fate you despise and abhor,
The sleight of hand,
Bestowed by the ignorance,
We let fester and grow?
And wish you could eradicate,
If only, so you could restore,
Balance and order,
With actions and words,
Rather than,
With the magic words ‘if only?’
She justified.
They’ll crucify me,
Target me,
Make me an unwilling martyr…
He sighed.
Would you rather remain
chained and tied then?
A slave to the dream you’re
sold,
And countless lies you’re told,
Where you let your freedom,
Be a perceived dream,
A fantasy,
You keep chasing after,
Like that dog,
Eternally chasing it’s tail?
She queried.
Easy, rousing words for you to
throw my way.
You, who claims to understand,
The dilemmas and harsh realities
of life.
Claiming to stand up for truth, justice,
liberty and equality,
Without even partaking in this
supposed fight.
How do you know the dreams I chase
after?
How can you claim to know,
The peace and liberty I chase after?
How do you know the promises
and dreams,
I’ve had to break,
That some would call sacrifice,
While I’d call it my will to survive?
He asked, his voice breaking…cracking
Built up and steeping with years of
anger and frustration.
I don’t have to know to understand,
I see the world for what it is,
From where I stand.
I see the tears shed day in and
day out,
On that mother’s face,
About her child’s whereabouts
and safety,
I see the guilt and the fear,
Seeping through her tears,
In the movement of her trembling
fingers,
As the waits to hear,
If they’re dead or alive,
Fighting on foreign soil,
On some God-forsaken battlefield,
Fighting somebody else’s wars,
Dying to preserve,
The spirit of independence,
Of liberty,
I see the beads of sweat,
Rolling off that father’s brow and
back,
His bleary eyes,
Blinking out the sleep,
Of countless sleepless nights,
Trying to make ends meet.
I hear the silent tears,
Shed by all those lonely hearts,
Trying to make it in a world,
That prefers slamming the door
to their dreams,
In their faces…repeatedly.
A world that teaches them to
be lose faith,
And be bitter, cynical and jaded,
With no hope nor belief,
In love, in kindness,
In the genuine caring nature of
the human spirit.
I have seen the ravenous looks,
In the eyes of all those we deemed,
Lost causes and beyond saving,
The ones we turned our backs to,
Because how can we help anyone else?
When we can’t help our own miserable
selves?
I have seen, heard and felt far more,
Than you think or perceive my
naïve, misguided friend.
She reasoned with patience.
Every sunset is followed by a sunrise,
Just like every time we fall,
We dust ourselves and rise.
So too, is now the time,
To stand up to the oppression,
The repression, the suffocation,
No longer are you at the mercy,
Of those bullies who think they
can break you,
And take away,
All those nuances and elements,
That, make you.
It’s time, to chase after the future
that was always yours.
It’s time to stand up to the demons
and ghosts of the past,
Who have reduced you into a mere
shadow of the man you once were.
Face them head on,
Let the world know,
You’re no longer a doormat,
They can trample on.
She encouraged him on.
But what is a martyr’s sacrifice worth?
What do I stand to gain?
In a world so steeped,
By it’s own lust, it’s own greed?
He questioned, while looking on forlornly.
How will you know what is worthy
and isn’t?
Without trying, or giving this a chance?
The world wasn’t built in a day,
Change isn’t an overnight phenomenon,
It is but a trial,
And it takes several trials,
To reach the ultimate destination
of your journey.
How will you know how much of
and impact you make?
If you don’t think there is anything
worth fighting for?
Know that there is nothing to fight for,
That’s worth more than fighting for
yourself.
The only impact you need to make,
Is the one that affects your life and
you.
That is the only battle worth fighting
and dying for.
She replied.
He rolls his shoulders,
And cracks his neck side to side.
He heaves a sigh,
And when he opens his eyes,
Gone are the doubts and the worries,
That coloured his eyes.
There’s a new found fire,
Burning wild, burning bright.
And as he starts to rise,
He utters his last words,
Before taking his place in this
fight.
Too much time have I lost,
Too many pieces of my heart
Have been scattered and lost.
For today, today shall I rise,
And reclaim all that,
Once taken,
And all that which was
once lost.
In these forsaken shadows,
Shall I rid myself of the coward,
I once was.
Into the darkness,
Shall I set free,
The fears, anger and hatred,
That once held me together,
That once bound me together,
With the chains of false dreams,
And lies of untrue realities.
For herein begins my fight,
To reclaim my true purpose,
Redeem my true self…
And to free the light within me,
Out into a world,
So full of darkness and fury.

SJ

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