My Visitor

"When the student is ready the teacher will come."

She has been with me every day for over a week now.  Her words circling around an already overloaded mind.

I just want quiet.  I came here for quiet.  And yet she is with me... yammering away... night and day.

She speaks of evil times and evil men.

And of lies which can't remain hidden any longer.

Contracts signed, dotted lines, people treated like numbers.

The great reckoning she calls it.

How soon everyone will see... the plague of narcissists.

Even our governments are narcissistic. 

"When I think of all those they have let starve while they stood talking about democracy," she says shaking her head.

"People have forgotten what it means to be people," I tell her the only thing I can offer.  Because it's the only thing I've seen over these past fifty years which explains any of it.

"We don't have communities, we have pulpits and consumers.  We have charisma, yet no love.  We have starving children and leaders who buy and sell them like cattle."

"Soon the traffickers will become the only ones trafficked.  And the Johns will become the fertilizer they were always meant to be."

"But how, Baba?  I just don't see it?  How can justice come after so much evil has been done in broad daylight?"

She snorts and waves a hand as if she would offer no answer.

Then she simply replies, "People aren't as blind as you think.  They see the signs now.  They see the patterns of manipulations and lies.  How each attempt to help is really an attempt to grab more for themselves."

I hope what she says is true.  That people are waking up to the war that has been waged on us.  That's being waged on us.

Years from now they will call this WWIII - The War of Information.  And Disinformation.

"We're winning."

I don't believe her, but I smile and hug her anyway.

"How can you tell?" I ask, looking up into her whole and healthy eyes.  For in this place everything and everyone is made whole again.

"Because you didn't give in.  You stood your ground."

I frown because I feel like a woman with her finger on a button that will launch a nuclear bomb.

Though that has never been my intention.

"Too many people think being good is simply turning the other cheek.  They say, 'just like Jesus did'.  But he did not do this with those who chose to repeat patterns of behaviors which hurt others.  People who continued to lie, hurt, and kill... not only did Jesus call them out - but he threw them out as well.  You see, doing the right thing, child, rarely involves taking the passive route.  Not that you could.  No, you see problems and you work for solutions.  That is why you are blessed."

And I am blessed.  Incredibly blessed.  In fact, because I was kicked so hard by so many people while I was at my lowest in years... this incredible new path opened up for me.

Even more reason to never ever look back.

"Finish what you started.  Finish it."

Now the woman I call grandmother sounds just like my annoying inner voice.

"I don't want to be mean."

It's an entirely honest statement. 

Because I don't. 

Yet there's a much larger ache that comes from doing nothing at all. 

I mean... how could I in good conscious simply allow the target to slide from my back to another's?

"Sacrifice - means: to make sacred.  You have no other choice."

I feel like a shepherd bringing the flock to slaughter.

So, I level my shoulders and straighten my back.

Cuz there's some metaphorical killin' which needs doin'.



Exe
07/26/2023

© Raena Exe 2023



“Broken things can be fixed and healed. Nothing is too difficult or too dirty to clean.”  Marika McCoola

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