I am still lining up those who would like to be interviewed by me and have their stories posted here. Bear with me, the stories are coming and I will honor those who’ve maintained their will, their purpose, and their heroism in the face of some of the worst misery visited on our species.
Stay with me as I work to bring you the stories of those who face the demonized intruder who not only disrupts a life but also disrupts the lives of those who love the innocent target of pain’s demonic monster.
This ubiquitous demon feasts on those it targets for reasons unknown, or for reasons too unbearable for humans to comprehend.
Those dragged into the pit of mindless pain struggle to find the reasons for nearly unbearable pain, unbearable suffering. We, when the pain backs off just a bit, lash out, lash in, beg and demand answers to the unknowable question: Why? Why for god’s sake me? Why rip asunder me and my family? Why, goddamnit, why?
We might as well be shouting into a black well, a well with no sides, no depth, no beginning, and no end.
We shout our anger, our strength, our love and our hate, but mostly, in time, our despair. A despair so bleak, so cold, so hot, so all encompassing it rents the very fiber of existence.
Existence brought to its knees, existence wounded is an existence out of time. Out of time we rail, we weep, weep, beg and bargain. But existence so damaged, so altered is a veil that hides nothing. A veil torn, nay ripped asunder, ripped from the fabric of breath, of beat, of rhythm, of the veil of breath that breathes independent of the lungs we so honor, we so depend.
Yes, we are ripped, rented, wounded. We touch the very scars that announce our arrival at the godhead we so adamantly refuse.
We are who we are and that we know is the limit of all that we know. Our fabric torn, our fabic burned, tattered and repaired lies before us, a panting sled dog, a bleeding beast that begs for our love, our touch.
Touched. Yes, the best we can do is touch….
Tell us…why! Why……please….