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justice on a day like today...

there used to be a pilgrimage where the pilgrim would place peas in their
sandals to make the walk uncomfortable, an ever present pain meant to remind
of the repentance they sought. to truly grow spiritually on this journey was to accept
the pain of this life and to incorporate it into yourself. to accept the pain until you no
longer resented it.

today it seemed my boots were slowly being filled with peas. one after another,
dropped in when i wasn’t looking.little pains that, individually, would amount to nothing
but a fleeting thought before pressing on. but today, i had them all at once. a writer’s block
during break; an old acquaintance i’ve left behind, texting me; and an empty
package from my parents. miniscule independently, but together they left me sore and tired.

and this is an unfortunate fact – we have bad days. not every day is as grand
as the previous or as attractive as the next. some days are filled with pebbles and peas
that leave you to make your own bright moments. and yet, that is a thing that we can enjoy.

what madness is this, you might ask (for i myself asked the same thing). but listen, briefly,
and i’ll do my best to light this dark mystery.if all we had were our best days, it would seem,
that each would pass uneventfully by in an unengaging haze. when each breath is the same,
what thought do you give it? would we not rush through and waste, in our haste,
the chances we’d have to be happy?

no, instead those gnarled and ugly days have a radiance of their own. they,
unlike good days, remind us of things. often things we’d like to forget or overcome.
things we think are best left in the dark of our minds, forgotten.

but in these shadows, they grow stronger. we forget their simplicity and instead
weave intricate lies of what they could be. a worry becomes a fear, and from there
an anxiety – it’s content forgotten, only the dread remaining.

so on these days where the monsters come out, it makes sense to not shy away,
but to stand your ground and face them. to see that they are memories of a past you can neither
forgive nor forget yet. a friend who used your kindness, and who you left (but still you feel guilty for).
a part of being a writer, learning not to chase after inspiration but to be pleased by its comings and goings.
they are human, and they are me. and i have grown because of them.

i no longer run from these thoughts, but stand up to them, fight them. i do not bow
to the past and grovel in fear,hiding my hatred from even myself. now i am a man
who can stand on his own two feet, face the wind and rain, and meet it with a smile.
a man i am more and more proud to be.

and i would not be this man were it not for the peas that still rattle in my boots.
though i’ve tried to shake them out, they’ve persisted. and i suspect they will continue to all my life.
this pain is what has made me, and i have come to embrace it. not masochistically,
but with love and respect.

and it got me thinking, along with this month’s poetry prompt, about justice.
for my first thoughts on this day were of injustice and its role on my life.
but what silly thoughts to think. for no man has ever judged just or unjust fully and both are still the same face,
viewed twice.

and it made me think of plato, and this poem i drafted for a laugh:

Euthyphro, Euthyphro could it be said
Justice was served with your father’s head?
Was it the gods who delivered this uncalled for sentence
Or did your actions leave you begging for repentance
For in this world where words are cheap
And accepted blindly by people-sheep
Such ardent fervor of right and wrong
Could only be served with such aplomb
By one so blinded to the shades of grey
As Euthyphro, Euthyphro was that day.

hopefully a good joke to any of you who have read the chapter. i still find it funny
(please excuse the people-sheep comment, in my head Nietzsche wrote this).

and as always, a poem to thank you for your endeavoring to reach the bottom of the page (post):

what worth do words hold
to the whispering snowflakes?
to the winter wind?

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Greyson
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