Haunt Me
I thought you believed-
That someone else died for
our sins,
so we don’t have to-
yet there you are !
all day and now..
in the near distance, a shade.
An overgrown spectre,
still bigger than life,
In death.
I’m not afraid.
Haunt me,
for there are no real stoics here.
In this windy place
the living also dying,
Cadere Animis (to lose heart).
May I offer you a pomegranate?
A drink from the river?
Please, you can rest a while.
You, I, Francesca, Paris, Helen-
how we collude in our own destruction.
How we fail each other, my kamerade.
On this limbo-torn taiga –
rich with lichen,
but not Heaven,
Will we forgive?
and be forgiven.
The Spoils of War 
No one else died for anyone’s sins. We are not sinners. We are animals, better than some, worse than others. After we die, all that is left is the fame of our deeds.
Death is not punishment, it is simply part of life.
Nothing can live unless something dies.
YJ went too young and not the best way, but that’s how it goes.
He was severely provoked and ran out of hope and ideas. It can happen to anyone. Once he’d killed the wife, suicide was the only option he had for staying out of prison and being a spectacle and he didn’t want that. He’d had issues and that’s how it goes.
The blazing sun wrought his last drops life.
In its setting, still large and burning,
amidst the torrent of civilization he sat.
The madness and filth whirling around him
he knew it would be the last sunset he’d see.
As if to give thanks for what he knew would come,
whithered and emaciated, hands outstretched,
his gaze pierced through that orange fiery ball.
Amidst the throngs, the fumes, the noise and the dust,
endless streams of humanity passed by, yet no one noticed.
For to care had become weakness and fear was everywhere,
but the depth of his gaze was energizing, anticipating.
But one man did notice and understood what he felt.
To be alone, curb kicked, barely alive yet inside ablaze.
Thirsty, burnt, in need of quenching he focused in lotus,
unable to rise for lack of strength inside he felt truly free.
As I walked through the market I searched high and low
for the perfect pomegranate, ripe to perfection.
Large and pink, each seed was bursting with sweet juice.
Gently my blade slit open its skin, careful of within.
And on my return, the sun down some more,
his hand were still outstretched, much as before.
Quartered and cleaned, the fruit fell to his palm,
as if from above it suddenly appeared.
No need to look back, for the deed was a in His name,
but each pomegranate seed would burst forth in life.
The Lord doth see all, make no mistake
and to care for His creatures is commanded of all.
Bret Says: >>
No one else died for anyone’s sins. We are not sinners. We are animals, better than some, worse than others.>>
I don’t know about this one. I might accept it as true, yet not so much in the religious sense- maybe “flawed” or “imperfect”, yes. I have heard him mention “Yahweh”, thus I thought this meant “Christian”, but perhaps I am wrong. I don’t know where he was religiously. The animals part , no. We’re better than that, I hope.
After we die, all that is left is the fame of our deeds.>>
Like Pierce? I wouldn’t say that is ALL that is left, the way you raised your kids, loved them , taught them, took care of them- your own family that came before you, things you create that are lasting and beautiful, but it counts for something, to be sure. As I said in my own goodbye/memorial on my blog, what happened that terrible day does not erase all the many contributions he made. There are good people who end up doing terrible things, but there are many more mediocre people who don’t do anything terrible, but don’t do much good either.
Death is not punishment, it is simply part of life.
Nothing can live unless something dies.>>
Well it can be used as punishment, or the threat of it.This kind of tragedy is not “simply part of life”.
“nothing can live…” This sounds like something we are taught as little kids when a grandparent dies or even a dog or cat. I would have once believed this, a world of absolutes- I don’t anymore. I’m not an either/or type.
YJ went too young and not the best way, but that’s how it goes.>>
Yes, excepting the last statement which implies a casualness, the apathy/nihilism of “Generation Y”.
He was severely provoked and ran out of hope and ideas. It can happen to anyone.>>
I don’t know about the “hope and ideas” part- if you mean to say he was probably losing his grip on sanity, was isolated, thought he could be stoic, etc.. yes.
“happen to anyone”..>>
In theory, sure, but it doesn’t. I have seen a pattern that in so many of these cases, people say , “he was always so nice, polite, friendly..normal”.. I don’t think YJ is such an aberration, I think this potential exists in all men, however, the fact that it is IN all men doesn’t mean all men would go that far, though plenty of men beat up their women regularly or do other things. From my limited knowledge, I do not believe YJ was one of those.
Once he’d killed the wife, suicide was the only option he had for staying out of prison and being a spectacle and he didn’t want that. He’d had issues and that’s how it goes.>>
Again with the “that’s how it goes” que sera sera hmm? I suppose that is your “coping mechanism” , ending thoughts with a “that’s the way the cookie crumbles”. I don’t know if the reasons you state are the main reasons why he then took his own life, just to avoid consequences. YJ was probably more complex than people gave him credit for, and certainly more loved than he knew (by WNs), which is yet another element of tragedy in this- I think he chose the method he did to show that he really did have remorse, not simply to ‘escape’. We are all worse off without him, the Cause is worse off, and he and his children are certainly worse off.