Love’s Nearest Enemy
It’s no language I want to learn, this torrential, pelting dogma that is rising like a river gone rampant, its liquid bluster billowing over its banks onto family farms and park lands and neighborhoods where children’s futures are bantered about like a tether ball at recess by boasters who declare loyalties to the unrestricted firearms marketplace, the international military industrial complex, the domestic healthcare profiteers. Where is the love?
It’s no language I want to learn, the angry spews of artless narcissism, the one-dimensional messaging that gut-punches the Golden Rule in the grip of the bullies with souls gone sour. Where is the love?
Must hearts be wrapped inside the barbed wire logic of Madmen Who Would Be King gesticulating simple syllables that decoded translate to The Emperor Has No Clothes. Are we bound to be captives of the Greedy Grendels whose egos grow more vicious with every election cycle? Will we survive the sentries that slap kindness into dungeons and compassion, too?
Kublai Khan’s mother Sorghahtani taught her children that all beings deserve respect, that understanding prevails over force, and that what destructs instructs. Her way of thinking promoted the bridging of divisions and the ending of cycles of wounding. Easier said than done, I think. Then Spirit reminds me, Love’s nearest enemy is fear.
