A life...
I think back to all the rainy days
Running and fighting in the streets
Desperate to be seen or heard
All the children dying
Gangs or cops or drugs, it didn't matter
I think of the blood mixing with tears
Rain drops dripping from my heart
Just to make sure I could still feel
After loosing the only people I'd ever had
"You will survive" a friend once spoke
"Because you are the most resilient person I have ever known."
And because he was right, I continued trudging
After disappearances and attacks
After unforgivable wrongs and insurmountable pains
I stand here to yet again lament the loss of a life
And I think of all the times others have found me foolish
For protecting ants from unruly children
For protesting the death of fruit flies in genetics class
For refusing to eat meat
And then I look at my child
The confusion and hurt in her face
As I try to explain that our cat is not coming back
That he will not be getting better
And all the pain and death and suffering that I have seen
That I have LIVED
Is not different
And I think that a life is a life
And love is love
And all life and all love is precious
No matter how small

If joy is a sun
And sorrow a thunderstorm
Life is a rainbow

Why can I never write of happiness? It comes out weak and imperfect when I try. The perfectionist in me hides those frail attempts at depth, ashamed not to live up to my lofty standards. Its true that I like writings of darkness... it was the only thing that soothed the storm within me for so long. To know that I was not alone in my pain, that my pain could be heard by others, and thus break through the clouds with the barest touch of sunlight. My pain is not gone, and may never be, but I am happier than I have ever been. You, my dear tiger being the reason mainly and I want you to know how deeply happy you make me. But my words fail at happiness. Its not perfect, nothing is ever perfect. Its not easy, easy is boring. Nothing worth doing is easy. I could name a hundred wishes for a touch, or a kiss, or a sweet word whispered in my ear. But it matters not! Not compared to the ability to lie in your arms and think "this is perfect, this is all I have ever wanted." I am so verbal, have I failed to express this? Have I failed to say, "I am so happy in this moment that even if it is not always this perfect just having had the opportunity to feel this deeply happy is enough!"? I am so good at capturing the feeling of despair, but this happiness is so foreign and unimaginably wonderful that I can not depict it in words. I dreamed of a warmth for so many years, but that was a candle next to the sun. Even the thunder storms are but warm summer showers in your presence. Oh, but will you hear me? I speak not your language, and I fumble at my own even now, but you must know! Every lie I wrote thinking I once loved, thinking myself happy, I believed, and yet it seems so foolish now. To think that I loved any other than you, to think that happiness was ever found without the ability to snuggle safely in your fur until the dawn. Because of you the slings and arrows barely reach my heart and my soul continues unscathed. I chose a hard life, my love. I'd have it no other way than to tackle the hardest imaginable path, to learn the most, and prove my fortitude! I grieve that means that you will weather the storms with me. But I know that you love me for my strength and courage (though I long to hear you say it if only because it would be music to my ears!) so forgive me this. You cannot love a warrior without steeping yourself in battle! But oh, what a glorious battle it is! I have found it! The purpose for which I was born and bred. To live here, to fight for good, and to love you! And I can truly say, today is a good day to die. Because now, when I die, I will know that I will die happy. And I can truly say, that I will fight for each continuing breath to live! Because I know that every breath that I take, it will be another wonderful moment in which I will love you and you will love me.

I love you with so much of my heart that there is none left to protest.
I were but little happy if I could say how much.
Always,
~J

Nothing is real but the transient
The fragility of which makes reality so precious and yet fleeting
My heart cries out for the safety of permanence
But I must let you go
The mounting pressures must not be ignored
And yet what can slide must be released
For I am only a dying butterfly
Whose beauty lives in my impermanence
In the storm that is my life
My shelters are my sun and rain clouds
And I love their radiant rainbows
But truth comes from Outside
And I live to learn

Goodbye Brother.