01/05/2021
Prayers for Deliverance into My Daughters Arms
Trapped behind enemy lines—wounded and forsaken—too sick to travel, no supports to heal—trapped behind enemy lines, with nowhere left to go—family’s gone, my daughter stolen, the eternal’s the only thing left I’m holdin’. I’d fold, but there’s no cards left in my hand. No money. No family. Friends too busy to help. Trapped behind enemy lines—wounded and forsaken. Left to fight the communists alone. Frozen, life as a stone. No hot water to take a hot shower—perpetually chilled. Less and less can I find a way to sway, no way to live when you can’t pay. Another forsaken day trapped behind enemy lines—too sick to travel, and no one to give me a ride. At least I still dream—then Tina’s still with me. Perhaps when we transition we live on in the dream—that’s my dream, for then we’ll be together for eternity. Life in the physical is forsaken—loneliness—yet life in the dream is full. Never alone, never cold, never hungry. Why do we even travel to these worlds of matter? What’s the matter with us? At least in the dreams we are whole. Perhaps it was foolish to wish to grow old. Perhaps it was foolish to have faith in the beings of this earth. At least the humans. No surprise though seeing what we’ve done to the earth. And so again I sit alone—in a less than habitable home—no money, no support, no way to go on. Yet here I am. Again. Bleeding onto the page. Perhaps these streams of my suffering will ring down through the ages—saved here on digital pages—and in some distant time freedom will finally ring. To give up hope because the contexts are hopeless is to lose sight of the eternal, and so I go on hoping. But I’m growing to weak to go on. Each day is harder than the last. Each day I grow sicker, and that’s in no small part due to the torturously inhumane treatment I’ve faced from the Canadian ‘medical’ establishment. Each day I grow evermore weary. Each day my loneliness grows. Each day I fade into the dreams, the worlds beyond this one where contentment is possible. Would that I could just persist in the dream—that I were freed from the prison of this forsaken world—but creator put me here for a reason, and so I trudge on. But my prayer to creator is for release from these chains. To return to the dreamy land of my ancestors and my descendants that I might exist in contentment. I’ve long since stopped praying for this forsaken world—my prayers are for release from the bo***ge of a world typified by sorrow, loss and abandonment. My prayers are for deliverance into the worlds beyond where I can finally be with Tina again.