Monika Basile's Blog: Confessions of a Bleeding Heart - Posts Tagged "battle"
Battle Cry
When my time has come may I be able to say I never stopped fighting the good fight. May I be able to say with all honesty, that I tried for the most part to make it better.
I don’t always do the right things, say the right things and sometimes I am not the right thing. But I try—even if it puts me hanging from a precarious edge—to do what I can. It is not noble, it’s risky. It is not grand, it’s merely dangerous. It isn’t at all what anyone aspires to do—to put yourself out there, by the skin of your teeth, praying that when you speak out that it doesn’t somehow destroy you in the process.
The thing is this. I don’t know how to live with myself if I don’t. And I’m scared that my big mouth gets me in trouble when I speak for those who cannot or will not speak for themselves. I am finding that a whole bunch of trouble drops into your lap when you tend to be one of those people who can’t just walk on by.
I have this little voice that is sometimes quite powerful and persuasive. It chants in my ear and torments me. It is a physical feeling—a buzzing, a flair of colors before my eyes, a twitch in my bottom lip, the sound grows overpowering, similar to that of when you hold a seashell to your ear. There is only so long I can ignore it and then my mouth opens and I speak though I am a bit terrified. That’s when the trouble starts. Sad to say too, that sometimes it changes nothing but me.
Sometimes, when we use our voices and speak out against an injustice—nothing else happens and those we speak to, the ones who can actually help— do nothing. It is beating your head against the wall except you don’t damage the wall and the only damage is to yourself. You make your life harder and circumstances stay the same.
Except…
You can sleep at night.
Except…
You can look into the eyes of the one you spoke for and know that you fought the good fight even if they have no idea that you did. There is this still place in your heart that knows—truly knows—it was worth it no matter what trouble it caused—no matter what—it was worth it—if only because you can still look them in the eyes. Sadness does not come from your behavior because you know, at least this time; you did what should be done. You can’t control the outcome—only your own voice in it.
Except…
You can face your own reflection. You can look upon your own face with the knowledge that you tried and will keep on trying. You will go forward and you will keep fighting the good fight, a weary soldier, disillusioned and sometimes scarred from battle. You don’t have to win though your heart of hearts would have loved that to happen. You just have to continue to believe that there are things worth fighting for.
Carry on.
Monika M. Basile
I don’t always do the right things, say the right things and sometimes I am not the right thing. But I try—even if it puts me hanging from a precarious edge—to do what I can. It is not noble, it’s risky. It is not grand, it’s merely dangerous. It isn’t at all what anyone aspires to do—to put yourself out there, by the skin of your teeth, praying that when you speak out that it doesn’t somehow destroy you in the process.
The thing is this. I don’t know how to live with myself if I don’t. And I’m scared that my big mouth gets me in trouble when I speak for those who cannot or will not speak for themselves. I am finding that a whole bunch of trouble drops into your lap when you tend to be one of those people who can’t just walk on by.
I have this little voice that is sometimes quite powerful and persuasive. It chants in my ear and torments me. It is a physical feeling—a buzzing, a flair of colors before my eyes, a twitch in my bottom lip, the sound grows overpowering, similar to that of when you hold a seashell to your ear. There is only so long I can ignore it and then my mouth opens and I speak though I am a bit terrified. That’s when the trouble starts. Sad to say too, that sometimes it changes nothing but me.
Sometimes, when we use our voices and speak out against an injustice—nothing else happens and those we speak to, the ones who can actually help— do nothing. It is beating your head against the wall except you don’t damage the wall and the only damage is to yourself. You make your life harder and circumstances stay the same.
Except…
You can sleep at night.
Except…
You can look into the eyes of the one you spoke for and know that you fought the good fight even if they have no idea that you did. There is this still place in your heart that knows—truly knows—it was worth it no matter what trouble it caused—no matter what—it was worth it—if only because you can still look them in the eyes. Sadness does not come from your behavior because you know, at least this time; you did what should be done. You can’t control the outcome—only your own voice in it.
Except…
You can face your own reflection. You can look upon your own face with the knowledge that you tried and will keep on trying. You will go forward and you will keep fighting the good fight, a weary soldier, disillusioned and sometimes scarred from battle. You don’t have to win though your heart of hearts would have loved that to happen. You just have to continue to believe that there are things worth fighting for.
Carry on.
Monika M. Basile
