Homage to Homage to Catalonia


“It was the face of a man who would commit murder and throw away his life for a friend-the kind of face you would expect in an Anarchist…There were both candor and ferocity in it; also the pathetic reverence that illiterate people have for their supposed superiors.  I hardly know why, but I have seldom seen anyone – any man, I mean to whom I have taken such an immediate liking.” George Orwell

I cannot hide from the line I’ve crossed.  As I travel through dreamscapes of ideas forgotten from second to second.  I stand upon this battlefield but I can’t see my enemy.  As people walk by they look into my eyes.  This is new.  The land is different.  Things are on fire.  What was once here is gone, but there is a spirit, an undeniable spirit that amongst all this wreckage, continues to rise.   All I could remember of my previous experience is the grayish whiteness covering my eyes.  Now I can see the bombed out remains of this gentrified area, before all this, it seemed to be sucking the life from my soul.   Oh where oh where have all the rich people gone?  Fled in fright from what real life looked like I presume.  Or hiding in the shadows for when the time is right to take back what they have always had, because it was Their creation, and this can be something new.  But we still had work to do.  There were enemies of progress as we liked to call them, still watching our every move from somewhere far away, but they never moved or acted, they just watched and this made us increasingly nervous.  Our guns stopped working and we were out of gas but they didn’t know that.  This was our piece of land and only death would tear it from us.  It started…I don’t really know when it started or even how, but I know I am now in the middle of it staring at a map whose territory I can’t recognize.  I believe it started simultaneously you see, so many people, so tired of living in cages, tired of the image they created for themselves, tired of being led around an endless maze.  There was no great plan.  No one voice in control.  There were many voices rattling off ideas no one listened to. We really only knew one thing, we have tasted freedom, and we enjoyed it.  But I worried about after it was all over.  The forgotten question during this outpouring of hatred for the oppression we have endured for so long, what’s next?  No one knew.  We felt cleansed finally from all of the bullshit suffocating our lives that we no longer had the energy to ask what next.  It came to me in a dream…I saw her come from the ground, most of the women fighting alongside us did seem to arise from the earth before every major battle.  They were the only ones who knew how to work the weapons we couldn’t even manage to aim straight.  They seemed to be the only ones who still remembered why we chose to put ourselves in this situation.  And when I was dying, or thought I was, on my back, it was a woman who healed me with her own hands.  The lines we draw between ourselves disappeared quickly in battle…when she stood before me, she communicated to me that we were fighting the wrong enemy.  We had thought we were winning but we needed to fight ourselves first.                                                                                                                     There will be pain.  The words flowed with the wind into my mind as she touched my forehead just above my brow, her white dress fluttering along as if growing wings.  The easy part is fighting what’s outside of you, anyone can do that, it’s the inside battles that can kill you.  But why me?                                                                                                                                    Because no one else is listening.

And she disappeared but I knew she was never far from me after that.  And as the battle raged on, all of us continued with the comforting thought that what we were fighting something outside of ourselves.   What we were began to show in the tired faces of all of us.  We began to argue over chewing gum and Pepsi Cola and our food started tasting the way it use to.  This is when we once again began to divide ourselves because someone had too much chewing gum.  We were slowly being eaten from the inside and no one wanted to listen to the voice pointing it out.  I began to separate myself from the ideas we seemed to be fighting for.  I stopped wearing my equipment, I put down my weapons and took up the calling of a preacher, a preacher of the self I liked to believe.  A message of looking into yourself and seeing what’s inside of you is not a popular belief, especially amongst revolutionaries. She warned me the road would be perilous.   I walked away from the explosions and the cries for help, like children, they were vying for mommies attention by being the loudest. I could no longer take what was being offered as freedom from those who’ve only known the opposite.  A butterfly like a gift from heaven landed upon my nose and I was instantly healed.  For the first time in a very long time I felt like that child once again, the one who knew there was always a better way, and the key to freedom existed only within.  As the butterfly slowly fluttered its wings, an inner peace dawned leaving me without words for expression.  Fluttering almost in slow motion I watched a red light through its eyes, and without a thought pulled my slingshot out launching the butterfly up to the sky where it exploded above me as a rainbow appeared before my eyes.                                                                                                                                                                               I won’t get fooled again, no I won’t


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