Yet what was there to be learnt
Yet what was there to be learnt when the
troubles had duly passed,
But that struggle meant sacrifice and that
sacrifice was unending.
That what was lost could never be
reclaimed,
That there was no salvaging of it.
And so it is,
That there are many tales of glory,
But few of sacrifice,
In the myths and fables,
Of struggle and revolution.
For struggle is not momentary,
It is ever-ongoing,
And what is endured is a thing of
sacrifice,
A thing that time cannot repair.
A thing of endurance,
And not of interruption.
A rupture in time that can never be sealed,
Like the scarred flesh of a wound,
A rupture in time that can never be sown
back,
That can never be remade whole.
A mark never born alone,
That’s what sacrifice is.
There are tales of struggle that soar very
high,
But they can never convey with the
fullness of truth,
What sacrifice wreaks in the circles and
cycles of life.
And it does not do it once,
And it does not do it twice,
But it does it still.
It spreads outwards into the lives of
others,
And they are bound to it as were you.
It is an unending trauma that sacrifice
inflicts,
An open wound that will not heal.
Between pain and loss it moves,
Yet sacrifice is not brokenness,
And about this I must be clear,
For sacrifice is not a dearth of spirit,
But a commitment to it.
For brokenness reigns when you are unable
to struggle.
Brokenness is not struggle.
Yet painful it is,
It is not struggle.
Yet lasting it is,
It is not struggle.
It does not sacrifice,
It hasn’t the choice,
But to endure its plight.
Brokenness does not know,
And it does not venture to seek out choice.
Yet that is not the whole of it,
For there are those that know not either,
Neither sacrifice nor brokenness have they
endured.
And yet their notions duly fool them,
That struggle is their pledge.
For that struggle that they pledge,
Knows nothing of the edge,
Of revolution.
That severs as it turns,
And turns for evermore.
The spirit is its engine,
And struggle is its chore.
Space may bend,
And time may follow,
And matter may call them both,
But of struggle it is certain,
It knows no safely guarded berth.
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