Broken Warriors

    When I wake up, sometimes there's the call from outside. Something that lives in the daylight tells me that I can walk and work as far as I can wander in one day. That every step will be across the world, the land, the culture that used to be ours. That voice would talk through breakfast and morning coffee. Calling and beckoning. The truth of it all, in the real world, settles down over that voice and muffles it. That long and smooth wall of who I should have been is cracked, never to be repaired.

    So I talk with, and laugh with, all the others like me. When we see each other, there's a spiritual acceptance of who we are. People might wonder about the little nod to a stranger on the street, but we know. Yes, the voices woke me up as well. Bid me to walk and work across a land that has been crisscrossed with a myriad of invisible barriers. They do nothing to stop the mind or the travels across the land, but they do stop the heart.

    The confined heart is a broken spirit. Yet, we still live. We laugh and we joke. I can't help but see it in them though, the ones that heard that voice muffled. You can see it in their eyes, the flash of inspiration to be someone you were meant to be, drowned for another day. Again, they only woke up to realize that they were broken warriors.

Reviews

[SAAD AHMED]

BEAUTIFUL!!

[Norma M Sutton]

You write this as a story but there is a lot of truth in it. Today's world squelches the inner being, the one that we should have been, could have been if only . . . I like how you've put what I see into words in a way that I don't think I could have done.