I wait

December 29, 2011.

Another year almost gone. I try to remember the good things, but can’t.

Some speak of destruction by fire; I saw that this year, only the fire was sun, no rain, relentless dry scorching weather, day after day, week upon week, months….

Damn near the whole year.

I am told half a billion trees died in Texas alone.

It started raining about a month ago. Slow, steady, light but soaking rain. With the rain came cold. The moisture will pay dividends down the line, but now, cold and wet suck life from animals forced to endure without hay to fill their guts.

Aquifers, lakes and livestock ponds remain precariously low despite the recent showers. I have no clue what the new year will bring.

I’ve lived with a cloud overhead, a sense of impending doom I can’t seem to shake.

And I have been hard on myself. I didn’t fix the front tooth I broke while biting a cow’s ear and I didn’t fix the broken bone in my right hand when I hit yet another cow in the head; both remind me of my shortfalls, my lack of patience and my horrible temper.

And these are milk cows with which I have an intimate relationship, involving a considerable amount of trust.

I’ve hurt others I love as well. Wasn’t my intention, but it is what it is. I feel terrible for what I have done.

A friend says don’t do that anymore, when I describe my travails.

I tell him I try. But it seems the default state in me; in the blink of an eye or one unguarded moment I do things that permanently alter the landscape, and later leave me in a state of despair.

I’ve killed a notable number of animals this year; some for food, some out of a sense or mercy or duty as they lay suffering. I wonder if I shall see them again, this long, long line whose last minute on this earth was spent staring into my cold blue eyes.

Will they, can they forgive me?

I have helped some in need; I have denied many more.

It’s as though God has turned his back, like my prayers somehow don’t quite reach through the fog and the noise and the confusion of this world.

I tire of seeing evil prosper. I tire of liars and propagandists, who set traps and spew deceitful words against the righteous.

I despise the haughty looks of the rich, their glass towers and fine linens and sparkly jewelry and soft hands with manicured nails, fine tailored clothes and wafts of perfume and cologne, delicate morsels of food served on silver and china-ware, while waiters and waitresses smile for tips to feed the kids at home.

I detest those that sit in towers overlooking cities below, devising their schemes, planning their wars, creating money from thin air in seemingly endless amounts, while the rest suffer and strain to earn a living.

And in the next breath, their counterparts say we need more fucking taxes.

You make money out of thin air to do whatever you want when you want and how you want. Why then do you need to tax the rest of us that have to earn our money the hard way?

You borrowed the money. You pay it back.

Here’s the deal. I say no. I do not sign off on this. Do what you will but do so without my blessing.

I remain a criminal without a crime, a warrior set aside.

And I wait.