Dignity
Ian M
Posts: 123
1/10/05 - I wanted to say something about human dignity, the circumstances by which we in the white wide world are chained, the opportunities to celebrate, that though just far and away in real time and real space from each other, opportunities that our heroes took to break loose in their own small ways to inspire.
I wanted to say something of the yearning for freedom that so many dare not to sense, that some will spend lifetimes in the denial and persuasion that life as a captive was bearable, even preferable.
I wanted to say something of the burdens of privilege, of the cost of relative comfort, of the inescapable curse of complicity to be dispelled by the few perhaps, but the many..?
I wanted to say something of my own person, my struggle with liberation, my successes & failures, the prices paid for my own humanisation.
I intended it to be a tale of life-affirmation as an art, of bestowing gifts on entire races of men to allow them access to whole new continents of inner sight with which to enrich their understanding and consequent use of the geology outside.
I wanted all the while to be seen stoic and doggedly committed and loveably humorous in clear-minded, open-hearted resolution.
I wanted as I slept the day through a bad wine hangover beneath the sun and a mildly picturesque sky beyond my window, dreaming my disturbing dreams of further irrevocable bondage revealed.
I wished, but I woke to the smell of onion quiche oven baked to sustain the banter of uninvited guests below. The laughter unforced at anecdotes I will never hear - a world in which I have no mind to, no choice BUT to be a part of.
I wanted, for sure. But who the fuck am I?
I wanted to say something of the yearning for freedom that so many dare not to sense, that some will spend lifetimes in the denial and persuasion that life as a captive was bearable, even preferable.
I wanted to say something of the burdens of privilege, of the cost of relative comfort, of the inescapable curse of complicity to be dispelled by the few perhaps, but the many..?
I wanted to say something of my own person, my struggle with liberation, my successes & failures, the prices paid for my own humanisation.
I intended it to be a tale of life-affirmation as an art, of bestowing gifts on entire races of men to allow them access to whole new continents of inner sight with which to enrich their understanding and consequent use of the geology outside.
I wanted all the while to be seen stoic and doggedly committed and loveably humorous in clear-minded, open-hearted resolution.
I wanted as I slept the day through a bad wine hangover beneath the sun and a mildly picturesque sky beyond my window, dreaming my disturbing dreams of further irrevocable bondage revealed.
I wished, but I woke to the smell of onion quiche oven baked to sustain the banter of uninvited guests below. The laughter unforced at anecdotes I will never hear - a world in which I have no mind to, no choice BUT to be a part of.
I wanted, for sure. But who the fuck am I?
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