Pirated.

I would rather the truth prompt a war,
then helplessly witness
tyrants steer the ship of our country
into pseudonymous waters-
while wrists are bound and
teeth clench rope.

Why would I desire protection
while traveling 'cross borders,
when gas masks are already
tightening around my
lungs?

I am an individual.
I left my family in good health and memories,
tucking them back into security that has always
served as an illusion.
I cannot live the next eighty years content,
living the profane.
I belong to God's army.
He is the only one tied to me and he is untouchable.
So kidnap me, twist my tongue until
I cannot move for your will is not my own.
Unless I die a slave and drown myself
centuries beneath your rule,
I will not be emancipated.

But this heart still resists...
why did paper and pen ever matter
when you haven't examined my neurons,
haven't been welcomed into my soul;
who needs written legacies
when my body will be discovered
years from now,
by your child's child
who is worshiping our leader
by day
and escaping through the gates
by night,
to embrace the people
whose voices write and words speak

until their bodies vanish from alleyways
and their names deny public records
and their relics burn their beloved.

Until the crucifixes they bled for
are made manifest through fidelity,

and there is revolution, still.

- Written 3/8/14 @ 12:51 AM
- by writing "living the profane", I was referencing the view of sociological reductionist Emile Durkheim who was known to use the term "the sacred" vs. "the profane" in describing society- "the sacred" as something specific, worthy to be respected while "the profane" was the ordinary, routine parts of life.