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POEM: Soldiers of Humanity

A soliloquy of hope for 2016, written by volunteer Matt in the throes of a rousing experience representing CALM at Planet Rockstock last month. Read standing, with a cup of tea and a chocolate bourbon in hand, imagining your brothers standing beside you; now that’s manspiration…

It’s one of those moods when you know you feel tired but know you won’t sleep.

For a long while now, I know I have been emotionally conscious, whereas before I was droning on.

Drowning in a numb fuzz of existence. Do I prefer it now? Maybe. There have been times when I have silently begged for the old me, the old numb safety. The simple emotionless, keeping below-the-radar, believing that news and reality was not relevant to me, because I was not part of everyone else’s world.

Until I realised that we are all interconnected. I am now a white blood cell in the body of humanity. If I remain righteous and true, I remain the healer, the antibody. The cancer of misery and greed spreading through us. The city is a tumor and I am now free of it. Yet I do not want it to die, or be cut out, because I love those that feed into it. Instead I want to see it mutate and grow into something beautiful, something loving. I can help achieve that.

But it involves confrontation, and I feel strong enough to fight it. In the streets and in myself. If I can fight off the ideology that once infected my thoughts and actions; the thoughts that said I am better than those without, and I am not worthy of the “successful”, then I will win the fight with greed and its demons. I can recruit other humans as they are, relinquishing fear.

For there is nothing I fear. I have trained myself only to accept. Drown my sorrows not in drink or drugs but with kind and meaningful memories. Surround myself with love and compassion and watch my reality blossom. I accept that fatigue, sadness and anger are only temporary and wait patiently as they pass by like clouds in the sky.

Rather than cling to joy and happiness, redistribute it like real wealth and watch it multiply in the hearts of those I share it with. When sadness falls and refuses to pass, it tries to plant its seeds of fear and hatred to sprout from my mouth like weeds, and take root in my heart. I call on those I love who will help me bear the burden, and dig it out, lifting it like the weight that it is. Let the energies of love heal the suffering and turn it into a lesson. Enjoy the rise from its depths, and then once again redistribute that flowering joy.

Love is the cure. And love is bountiful. But love is a precious resource and requires the nourishment of its bearers. It does not flourish in the hearts of those lonely in solitude. And it is they who we must make every effort reach, to share our lessons with, to plant the seeds of love. There we find the soldiers of humanity.

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