Wounded in life, I seek to staunch the wounds of others . . . . --xoj

"Jack Spratt’s two centavo Guide to Redemption”
©2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

God's tapestry, all creation, my greatest value an attempt to live/love for: in gratitude, mercy, forgiveness, regardless of Age, Race, Creed, Gender, Gender Proclivities, or Generosity . . . seeking to make redemtion salvation & resurrection potential in all unique, precious, individual lives, human, plant, animal, world. . . .through words & images - Jack Spratt ... KISS

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

no priest am i


. . . yet once a priest always a priest; catholic not Catholic, odd for a nominally “Christian Methodist” boy, eternally so as child to God. Brethren with all faiths Universal knowing in anger, hate, fear, resentment we are owned. Free, only when we forgive. Oddly, for one so explicitly secular I have known and loved many clerics, some taken in sin yet loving them as well.

My sense and conviction being that what happens to us is, when seen with love and reflection, what makes us/us. There is a justice beyond mercy and for me it is LOVE. Yes! That four letter word, profane and sacred, genius inherent within all life save those few biologically limited or challenged. Unforgivable only in that those few can comprehend/apprehend/appreciate nothing of the concept then forgiving themselves for being human slightly skewed.

Largely inspired by Father Denis, whose remark, “it is impossible to disprove a negative” is dominant at the moment to my thesis. We have no dialog politically but stasis; fanatics seeking dominance while the world withers in neglect.

An immigrant irresponsible tenant in life I am touched by the grace lent by those whose last days, hours and minutes before death attended. As well, and as deeply, by those whose lives seem an endless continuity unbearable or celebratory. Hammered on the anvil being forged into something I cannot define . . . seemingly . . . life happens that way. Acknowledging my ignorance, penchant and proclivity for apostasy makes forgiving myself possible. Thence becomes available growth.

Yet there is something, someone, vastly more compassionate than I, reminding me that as resident in an elder community soon to be Arbitrarily, Capriciously, Unreasonably inspected serially and monthly, judged and found lacking by any means or measures and evicted . . . I am to learn by the experience.

What Father Denis caused to be created, now disinvest/laic , while I remain. Conscious, myself coupled with the community, stained by Fascism resurrected; The Third Reich incarnate. Our homes become internment death camp. Do I protest too much or too little?

I am fraudulent to be outraged at the infliction of such attention. Becoming aware in micro terms the macro consequence of aborting the Bill of Rights, preemptive war, torture, the World estate become the playground of terror. Wondering why not random rampage? I am scarcely able to restrain my own.

Larger fish to fry, while this sprat becomes a cinder?

It is astonishing what business people and politicians conclude their rights to be.

One of the laws of paleontology is that an animal which must protect itself with thick armor is degenerate. It is usually a sign that the species is on the road to extinction.” - John Steinbeck

17:09

Of late I have become fond of wandering about the public library and Coas, a retailer of second-hand books, by their claim one the seven largest in the United States. Humiliating to ponder the many who write poetry and discover a sincere appreciation for you who read me in any form.

At or about this time of day I fall to curiosity/preoccupation if Pam will write, call or telepathically arrive. Wishful thinking of course. Obviously convicted that she is for me the one I am less chary to name her. Thinking it not so odd knowing life and death to nearly, clearly, daily. I moderate my sense of tomorrow as never arriving; as we unconditional the narrative of the interlocutor. Add I do not want to crowd her especially into something she may later regret . . . as for myself, I'm GONZO! By she and M enabled to land on my paws regardless the fall from whatever height. Astonishing to love and be loved, free and finally realized, now is the be in me and yesterday or tomorrow doesn't exist.

I, for now, will close without naming my Nemesis, the property management company abusing me and my neighbors. HUD regs suggest an annual inspections while their (the unnamed Nazi's) are serial rapist of my time and attention . . . it seems folly to irk the ire of the specious and unworthy of my time for now. Add I seem to myself incapable of real damage but once shamed I can be vicious.

be the change be well beloved

130508 0557 no priest am i
© 2013 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

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