Dark 29: Ashiwel

Dear 2015,
We can make war, or we can be friends; you can pledge your allegiance to my peace, or force me to seize it from your minutes as they fall at my feet. Either way, I will win. I always win.
Forgive my manners; I should introduce myself. I am the plaintive mess you inherited from last year, bowed but unbroken, resilient spirit chained to dreams I refused to give up. My name is Ashiwel.
I have got dreams, Mr. 2015, if you must know. I have got plenty of dreams. 
I want to write until my soul unbreaks. I want publish a book of poems maybe, to see my words go places I’ll probably never have the chance to go. 
I want to happen on humanity and be surprised in a good way by its depth, and breadth and profundity. I want to meet more strangers, and have random conversations, and find my laughter in the laughter of others. I hope too for friends that may stick closer than brothers.
I was never one to take the easy road, and my paths have never been paved. Perhaps I recognize my tests as the fire that forges the steel blade of my character. And so I do not hope for a lighter burden, but for stronger shoulders instead. I hope that I can bear my burdens, and my neighbor’s too, and not sink under their collective weight.
I hope for great grace and small mercies; the familiar, overlooked small mercies that make life beautiful. I hope that I can save myself from myself when the occasion calls for a savior. 
And I hope for peace. May our soldiers go home to their families once more. May our children go home to walk the lands they once walked, and sleep in familiar beds. May our nation find leaders worthy of their offices and the esteem in which we hold them.
I hope that I can learn new things, or re-learn old things in new ways. I hope that I can unlearn my inability to regularly communicate or express myself emotionally, and learn from time to time to prefer the discomfiture of company to the comfort zone that is solitude. I hope that I can grow into the man that all of this promise poured into me begs of me.
I hope, when the world suffers a color demise, that someone will find these words, and maybe find color in them.
Dear 2015, I’d like to be friends. Please be kind to me.

One comment on “Dark 29: Ashiwel

  1. […] really have no elaborate expectations this year. Last year, I had many, and all but one ( the Chibok girls) came […]


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