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...seeking a horse not made of sand...

'You have freedom when you are easy in your harness.'-- Robert Frost

If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you.
If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.

First Forgive the Silence
by Mark Jarman

First forgive the silence
That answers prayer,
Then forgive the prayer
That stains the silence.

Excuse the absence
That feels like presence,
Then excuse the feeling
That insists on presence.

Pardon the delay
Of revelation,
Then ask pardon for revealing
Your impatience.

Forgive God
For being only a word,
Then ask God to forgive
The betrayal of language.

Two Horses

Just up the road from my home is a field, with two horses in it. From a distance, each looks like every other horse. But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing. Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind. His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him. This alone is amazing.

If nearby and listening, you will hear the sound of a bell. Looking around for the source of the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field. Attached to her halter is a small bell. It lets her blind friend know where she is, so he can follow her. As you stand and watch these two friends, you'll see how she is always checking on him, and that he will listen for her bell and then slowly walk to where she is, trusting that she will not lead him astray. When she returns to the shelter of the barn each evening, she stops occasionally and looks back, making sure her friend isn't too far behind to hear the bell.

Good friends are like this. You don't always see them, but you know they are always there. Please listen for my bell and I'll remember to listen for yours.

I am the Matriarch of House Decided.
I wear a bell.
GOD is very large. Its Skin is flat, but very, very wide.
Listen for me.
I'll be Listening.


 Perhaps as a consequence of adrenaline, when I am horrified and shocked, the world takes on this sort of colorlessness. I have been told there was actually color footage of the Nazi atrocities shot, but I have not seen it, and confess that the color images would lack the same impact on me as these have.
Violet has a way of bleaching the color out of everything, and this colorless rendering of it all, coupled with the eerie, granular silence of the recording process makes it hyper-real to watch for me.
I can smell the lime and the horrible stench, and in the sandy sound of the silent microphone, there is the crunch of the sand under the shoes I'd wear if I were walking through those scenes, and that would be how I would see it, that horror. Colorlessly. Blurred. Black is perfect and White is Ultra.


This is hard shit to watch all the way through. Pace yourself. But watch it, in all its starkness.

This is why my country torturing prisoners is wrong to me. I don't care who they are. I don't care what I think they have done. . The devaluation and disenfranchisement of human beings, no matter their origin is the inevitable result of it. This is the inevitable result. The creation of an anti-life. The carefully tended wall of blindness and willful ignorance. The Live Lie. 
This is the real thing, as recorded by a disembodied I...
the sight of GOD being dead.   There is no Why here.


This is the functioning embodiment of Satan to me.
An ecosystem constructed just as lovingly as we might plan a child's nursery, to foster the systematic elimination of human lives.
These places start out small, a cell here, a cell there, sequestered blocks of cancerous reality contained within the walls of prisons like Abu Ghraib and Camp Xray, where It festers. For every prisoner who dies, another is damaged in body and soul. When they are released, they spread It around. Eventually, it simply takes over...and roving death squads murder indiscriminantly, people disappear never to be seen again...
And even when they survive the horror...they are never, ever the same.

And it keeps going. All color dies. All becomes the black of Lies and the White of Time.

Sometimes...I want to scream and scream and scream. Sometimes I want to explode in an impossible kaliedescope to color Time...to turn its walls to Ocean...To permit movement in what fear has solidified.
To rekindle Why? And to describe Why Not?