I can’t decide if I am living in a more Dickensian time than now, because it really does feel like “It was The Best Of Times, It Was The Worst Of Times” is accurate.
My home city is burning and people I know are praying their homes will not burn down.
Places that are of great to importance to me are at risk too, but while I root for them to not to be consumed I am reminded they are important because of the people I experienced them with.
The Very Worst Kind Of Secret
It is fitting to discover the very worst kind of secret while home burns.
To learn that someone who should have known better did things with their underage charges that are at best questionable and at worst criminal is devastating and the shock waves have been felt all damn day long.
I keep trying to wrap my head around it. I keep saying ‘huh’ and asking myself how to reconcile it all and it just doesn’t work because there is no explanation or logic.
There are people demanding justice and recompense for this person’s behavior but they aren’t going to find it.
Social media provides a venue for them to struggle out loud with it and for us to argue and debate about what to do and what should be done.
I have tried to stay silent so that I could learn more about the situation and see if the facts provide more of a foundation to stand upon.
While others fume, rage and blindly attack others in a modern day witch hunt I stare at the ceiling and ask myself what the right thing to do is.
And the best I come up with is to focus on making sure that children are protected and that things like this aren’t given a 30 year slumber.
But it is not easy to stay silent because there are angry fools in the midst wreaking havoc and damaging others, self proclaimed Torquemadas who think they carry scales of justice but are just lashing out with their own Cat-O-Nine tails.
Yet I can’t say I don’t understand their fury and disgust because it is the worst kind of secret.
I don’t want to defend the indefensible but I don’t want it all to go off the rails because of stupidity that serves no one.
A Song I Would Sing
There is a song I would sing if I thought someone would listen and truly hear my words.
But I have no reason to believe their ears are open or their eyes ready to see what I would show so I reluctantly accept that which I prefer not to.
Some links break or are broken and it matters not whether the shepherd whistles, waves or offers a hand for holding or dancing.
I may be dumb and I may be dense but eventually I learn and leave to walk upon the winding road to see what lies around the bend.
There are things happening now that have long since broken my heart and pulled it from between my ribs.
And though I figure it will never grow back it always seems to, which is probably good albeit never pleasant or comfortable.
But it is part of life and we do as we do and go as we go.
Uphill Or Down
Made like Johnny today, dressed in black I carried my guitar and walked for hours.
Can’t say if it was uphill or down, just that I rolled out the door like the tide silently sweeping the present into the past as I marched towards a future.
A future that I can’t predict anymore than I could but with the same desire to I have always had.
The road reveals you even as you refuse to tell others about the decisions you made without them while engaged in conversations with them you never had.
My heart hurts, but it will heal.
