Bang the drum for our sons and daughters, for husbands and wives, mothers and friends. Shout death’s name to a clueless world. Bang the drum loudly! Love in grief has a powerful rhythm. Bang the drum with courage and strength! Bang it loud filled with compassion! Bang the drum proudly!
If I let myself run naked across this page, you will see me. I will be vulnerable. A deer in an open meadow with a bow and arrow pointed at my heart, or my jugular. I might stand wide-eyed and terrified of being laid to rest in a pool of my own blood-spill, or maimed to the point of crawling ...
That’s right, like many who have tried and failed spectacularly before me, I am setting myself a lofty and potentially unachievable New Year’s resolution. I will seek to purchase nothing new in 2016.
I long for a world where our words flow unburdened from our hearts and out of our mouths -- welcome as sunshine and ready as spring, warm as that first May day.