For This Country I Sit

Crowds slowly file in
            one...by...one
looking for their seats

I sit in my seat 
       and watch all the wondrous diversity

People of all colors 
shapes
backgrounds
faiths coming together for some fun

Thousands come 
the noise of all their voices
          hums throughout the air

Then the national music begins to play
          people stand in mindless obedience
                     an army of voices sing void of any emotion
                             no apparent connection to the treasured lyrics of the anthem

I sit quietly in my seat, as I've done....
                 for years. 

No one once objected
      became offended
      asked why
       or paid any attention
They were too busy doing as they were told

Then an athlete
        chooses to do the same as I
                his reasons his own
        and the nation cries out:
               HOW HORRIBLE!
                    HOW DISRESPECTFUL! 
                            I just shake my head

I do not stand 
      because I will not
              worship a flag 
                      or country

I do not stand
     because I see...
           hate running rampant in the streets
                 love greeted with anger

I do not stand 
      at this present moment because...
the U S of A has offered
       me little to be proud of

Instead I sit quietly
            as I have done...for years
            thinking and praying, instead of singing mindlessly
                 thinking and praying for 
                       lives lost in war
                        a families tears and pain to eased
                        for a country who talks
                              about respecting our veterans
                                     but treats them like worn out trash. 

I pray instead of mindlessly 
       worshiping the flag or country
As is my God given right. 

So do me
       and others like me a favor
   quit trying to force 
          us to respect a country
      that has done nothing to earn our respect.

We have respect for the sacrifice people made
       what was fought for

but in my eyes
       and others
there sacrifice was spit upon
       with the ignorance and hatefulness of this country 

For that 
      we sit.

Assumptions

You assumed the worst
You thought you knew all about me
from just one message
I listened and took time
to understand your view
but you refused to hear my side
like a coward
you ran from what I might say
if you stuck around
you would have learned
I wasn't angry
I just wanted to point out
the assumptions you made about me
you said I was greedy and selfish
you said I was a coach for the money
if you had bothered to get to know me
you would have seen
I am in this to help others
to make a difference in someone's life
I don't give a damn about money
sure it's a bonus
but I wouldn't do this
if I didn't think I wasn't making a difference
it isn't about shaming other women like you implied
but to build them up
and help them learn how to look in the mirror
and to say "I am beautiful"
with confidence.
You accused me of rudely just adding people to groups
If you had stuck around
you would have discovered
that message was simply me asking
I didn't add you to any groups
in fact I do run ads
and have a business page
even though you accused me having neither
and simply being out for your money
I gleamed a lot about you from that one response
While I am not angry
and wish I could help you
I have learned you are someone that I never want on my team
You have so much anger
I am not sure you have the skill set
to build people up
and help them love themselves.
You seem only to have the skill set
of tearing people down
and I am sorry to say
but I don't want any part
of someone who seems to get a thrill
from keeping people miserable
and making someone feel bad
for doing something that isn't your thing
In the future
a simple no is sufficient.

Goodbye Dear, Friend.

I saw you as beautiful
I saw you as strong
I reached out to you because
you seemed like a person
that could inspire thousands
I reached out because
I wanted the best for you
I reached out because I care
I reached out one last time
because I wanted to be sure
I was so surprised by your answer
filled with anger
filled with hate
filled with judgement
That didn't bother me
what got to me
was your assumption
that I didn't know about hard times
your assumption
that I have had it easy
your assumption
that you are the only who has it had rough
no offense
but you weren't there
when I cried my tears in secret
trying to find a reason
to keep breathing
you weren't there
when my body wouldn't stop shaking
you weren't there
when the doctors told me
my baby was coming to early
and I might not get to hold him right away
you weren't there
when my hubby was diagnosed
with cancer
and my heart dropped
you didn't see my pain
you didn't see me fight
you didn't see God hold me upright
I thought you were
the kind of person
who would understand
I thought you were
an encourager
someone who had deep empathy, like me
had suffered through hardships
and was ready to move past them
but I was wrong
you are still wallowing
you are still suffering
you are still making your way through the pain
so I give the gift of my absence
it seems I can't help
so I will pray
and hope God holds you tight
know that I am not angry
I have forgiven your anger
I wish the best for you
and wish you well
goodbye dear, friend.

Ignorant Hate- By Susan Thomas

I stand, taking a good look around.
Seeing bigotry and hate
run a muck.
They talk like illegal immigrants are a disease.
One to eradicate with haste
Never mind that they are human,
running scared from tyrants,
working jobs no one wants.
They talk like homosexuals are a contagious plaque.
Gay marriage now law
they shout in protest.
This law infringes on belief
they claim with hypocritical mouths,
as they force their belief on others.
Deciding to pick and choose
what to believe from God's Holy Book.
Anyone with skin color
or who is different is in danger.
Different has become dangerous
as the bigots claim power.
God's message of love and acceptance
a mere inconvenience.
One they ignore and block out.
They now seek to put a bigot in charge.
This Trump a true chump
with tyrannical ideas.
Has the nerve to ignore the facts
and rewrite the constitution to suit his desires.
Looking up to Hitler and Stalin for ideas
to rid himself and the US
of the unique and struggling.
Compassion, love, and empathy
become the enemy.
Those who shout in name of love and equality
are labeled ignorant and stupid.
If the path of hate
continues  what hope is left
for the country
for humanity
for all of us?

American Pride-By Susan Thomas

Americans shout,

"We are number one!"
Americans beam with pride
when they brag,
"We're a melting pot!"
 Americans spread the word,
"America a place where dreams come true!"
It should come as no surprise
that foreigners hear the commotion
and believe what we say.
Living in a hole
where hope is all but died.
When the American's words
breathe new life into that hope.
They dare to dream.
Make plans to change their fortune.
Hostile governments and horrible circumstances
leave no time for paperwork.
Afraid of severe punishment
they flee in the night.
Run to the land of dreams.
Hopes high.
Hope deflates
as they realize
their dreams out of reach
because no paperwork was filed.
Can't have a decent job
they could be deported.
The settle for low wages.
Jobs that pay under the table.
Jobs that no one wants.
Hatred is thrown at them
like sharp poisonous daggers.
They say they stole jobs.
Take from the government.
If only they could.
One federal aid application
would mean quick deportation.
Barely money to survive.
Praying they don't get ill
because they can't afford the expense.
Still they stay
with a smile.
Doing work no one wants
for next to nothing
while being blamed
for the countries problems.
They do all this
with a pleasant smile
because maybe their children
born in the USA
will have a chance.
Years pass.
A small mistake made.
They find themselves being deported.
As they scream
in tears for their children.
Their children who cannot follow
because they are US citizens.
An American crowd cheers at their tears.
Smile as a child
is forever hauled way from Mom and Dad
to a broken foster care system.
Isn't America grand?
The land where people
have pride in their hate.

A Very Unhappy BIrthday-By Susan Thomas

December is on the horizon.
A chill in the air.
Christmas Carols, Decorations, and Good Cheer
are on everyone's lips.
In the distance,
we all begin to sense...the coming of a new year.
All begin to think,
of the wondrous party,
an excuse to stay up late,
to kiss a handsome stranger.
Everyone's hearts are merry,
except my own.
As the last day of the year
     draws near,
I wish the holiday to hasten.
I wish December to disappear,
without a trace.
Leaving my birthday,
unmarked,
uncelebrated.
Leaving me alone,
and not robbing me of joy.
My birthday,
that is the buzzkill of any party.
As a child,
it may have been grand,
but as years passed,
and wisdom grew
it was plain to see...that my birthday,
was naught but an incovienence.
The huge party's that night,
were never for me.
The cake
presents
birthday wishes
all just an after thought.
Something to get out of the way,
so the merry party...could continue.
Always,
having to wait,
to celebrate what should be a happy day.
My birthday,
such an inconvience,
that it simply,
can't be celebrated on its own.
So I say
let the day go unmarked.
Let it pass,
with no birthday wishes.
Forget about me
go to your parties.
Perhaps if for once,
all just forgot,
then maybe just once
on my birthday,
I could be happy.
Not have my joy stolen,
as the reminder
that I'm second rate,
to the coming new year
is joyfully shoved in my face
over
and
over.
Leave me be.
No birthday wishes please.
Let me keep my joy
as you celebrate the new year.
All I wish for,
if you truly care,
is a quiet evening home.
Where the only hints of birthday,
come from a joyful son
and loving husband.
Who stay in,
and let me feel special,
when often I am made to feel
like an afterthought.
Leave the well wishes
to my husband, son, and unborn daughter.
If you must wish me happiness,
then wish me a happy new year.
But please for the sake of my happiness,
forget my birthday.

Beautiful-By Susan Thomas

My hair
is beautiful because
it is full and thick
My eyes
are beautiful because
they are the only part of me
that hints at my Asian descent
My nose
is beautiful because
it fits my face just right
My cheeks
are beautiful because
they are round
and perfect for my husband to kiss
My lips
are beautiful because
they are full
My neck
is beautiful because
it is long and elegant
My chest
is beautiful because
it reminds me
of the son and soon to be daughter
that rely on me.
My arms
are beautiful because
I use them
to show my love to family and friends
My stomach
is beautiful because
that is where my son grew
and where my daughter grows now
My legs
are beautiful because
they allow me
to play with my son
and take him on walks
My feet
are beautiful because
they carry me everywhere
I am beautiful because
I am loved
and my family calls
me beautiful.

America The Selfish and Greedy-By Susan Thomas

America, a country where all are created equal.
That's the lie,
we tell ourselves, to sleep at night.
Affordable Care Act.
A saving grace for many,
giving the right for all,
to have health insurance.
But hoards of angry citizens
scream of injustice.
The thought of paying
a mere five dollars more
is offensive.
How dare the poor
want health care!
Don't they know,
insurance is for the rich and healthy.
The hoards say:
Screw the cancer survivor,
epliptec
and diabetic.
Who cares that before this act
every insurance company told them no.
The only yes
was for a price
only the 1 percent could afford.

People now demand a livable wage.
Minimum wage,
no longer what it used to be.
The low wage forcing families,
in an unforgiveable
unbreakable cycle of poverty.
The same angry mob screams,
they earn what they deserve.
Never mind the steadily growing
number of college graduates
unable to find a job.
Forced to work a degrading job.
Never mind the single mom,
working three jobs
and still unable to make ends meet.
The angry mob screams
They won't pay the extra nickel.
These workers are lazy,
and deserve what they get.

The angry mob yells again.
To many people getting a hand out.
Take away social security
food stamps
and affordable housing.
Screw the old.
Let them sleep on the street.
How dare they ask,
for the money they earned.
Let the families starve.
Kids don't need to eat.
All should pay for that 2 percent
that abuses the system.
Let that apple
spoil the bunch.
Homeless deserve the street.
Their less than human anyway.
Who cares that one state,
is on track to eliminate homelessness.

We need our guns
the mob screams.
New restrictions rob us of that right.
Never mind the news
that keeps reporting  a new shooting
every week.
We need those assualt weapons.
Our god given right.
We don't care
that a psychopath
can buy a gun
with no problems at all.
Just because they can't see reality.
Just because they have no moral compass.
Doesn't mean they'll kill someone.

Every where I turn,
the mob is screaming and protesting.
Fighting
to keep this country unfair.
Fighting
to keep the poor man in his place.
Fighting
to keep guns in the hands of sociopaths.
Helping the 1 percent
rob the poor
and stuff their piggy banks.
We all speak the lie of equality.
Our actions tell another story.
America
the country where only the rich
healthy and privileged matter.

Depression-By Susan Thomas

It was more than sad
It was an all consuming feeling
A black pit
with no escape
A loneliness so real
that I could feel it in the air
It wasn't something
I couldn't
just get over
It had become
who I was
Everyday was a cloudy day
So often
death seemed to be my way out
the world wouldn't stop spinning
I needed stillness
I needed a moment
a moment that never seemed to come
happiness a fairytale
Still I chose to breathe
even though
breathing was a chore
maybe even a burden to those around
because I chose to breathe
one day
I found a ladder
each rung the darkness faded
just a little
Till one day I found myself in the sun
and breathing with ease
and happiness had become real

Deceiver-By Susan Thomas

People know my name
Devil
Lucifer
Satan
and they think I am fantasy
a silly guy in red
with a pointed tail
and a stupid pitchfork
they laugh
because they don't me
they don't know my work
or see how I work my magic
in their pathetic lives
I am the whisper
that tells you to sleep in today
I am the voice
that tells you to lie
I am the jealousy you feel
I am the coldness in your heart
I am the part that judges and condemns
I am the shame you feel
I am the gossiping voice
I am what makes you boastful of your sin
My name is a joke to so many
nothing but a scary story
This is my great deception
you won't fight me
I am just a fantasy

Pleasant Smiles- By Susan Thomas

Their words cut deep
deep deep into my soul
burned like a fire
trying to devour my independence
my self esteem
any good feeling
that struggled to survive the raging fire
the raging fire of ignornace
and hate they put there
before they came
such words would have rolled off like water
leaving me unaffected
still proud of myself
but these tricksters
were diffrent
they wormed their way in
they had friendly smiles
at the first glance
they called me friend
we talked
became close
then their true face began to show
friendly conversations
turned into cruel whispers
that I could always hear
the glances
the cruel laughter ringing in my ears
they took my words
words to find out why
and twisted them
twisted them into something dark and childish
soon all believed their lie
soon even I believed their lie
I believed I was worthless
ugly
stupid
a waste of space
I begin to think
why stay
their cruelty infected my soul
gave me a disease
took away my smile
and everything good
Soon death
seemed a pleasant option
but God held my hand
kept me from taking that last step
now that I've walked from the darkness
back into the light
he asks me to forgive
and I struggle with this demand
how to forgive those people
who gave that terrible disease
that still lurks deep inside
I know I must forgive
but I don't now how
so I try each day
and each day get one step closer
almost there now
but still not quite there
I look forward to the day
I can finally let go
of all the hurt they gave
and finally extinguish that flame
that still desires to devour

Sunday Mask - By Susan Thomas

They do not see me
on the sabbath day
They see the mask I wear
A mask that cannot be removed
I am not allowed to be me
to be me
is an inappropriate action
I am
what they want me to be
This fate was thrust upon me
when my heart I gave
to a man of faith
to a man with a calling
If my mask cracks or slips
me
the real me
may be set fee
for but a moment
on the holy day
where judging eyes will see
My person held to a standard
a higher standard than most
if I do wrong
in their eyes
sure it is me to blame
but more so
my husband to blame
To be me
would bring harsh judgement
upon the man
I gave my heart
Even if the real me
is just like you
or anyone there
I have to be better
I have to be an example
The real me
just won't do
So every week
I shoulder a burden
wear a mask
to be what they want me to be
hoping and praying
each time the mask will not slip
because it is not me they want
I am the me
they want me to be
I count the minutes
each sabbath day
to the moment
where I can be free
away from judging eyes
free to be me
free to be the me
that my man of faith
loves

so much
to be the me
that our family needs

Sixteen Year Old Me-By Susan Thomas

Dear Sixteen Year Old Me-

You've got that phony smile down. They can't see your despair. You wait in dreaded anticipation for another seizure. Your friends have gotten their license. You try to be happy for them, but you're just angry. You were supposed to be first.  Your meds are so messed up right now. It takes  most of your effort to just walk and talk. That's not mentioning that your hair is falling out. It doesn't bother you though you because your hair is so thick.  You go to church  and stare at those around you. Wondering why you don't feel that moved. Envying that passion  and love of God. Wondering if that gap between you and God will ever disappear.

You don't have much of a social life. A good friend or two, but mostly you feel alone. You sometimes wonder if people would even care if you were gone. Most  kids at school think you're a freak and won't bother to talk to you. You find pleasure in killing and torturing them in horrible ways in that poem or story your working on.

Your only escape from this life you hate is your writing, a good book, or even music. Your classes aren't going so well. You can't remember whole parts  of lectures. Your hands shake so badly that any craft is nearly impossible. Sometimes the room spins so bad you can't read the test paper right in front of you.

Life seems hopeless. Like a soul sucking black hole that you want to escape from. No matter how hard you run you never seem to go anywhere. Suicide seems like a plausible option. You don't see a future. Just a monotonous existence. Your dreams died along time ago.

What I'm going to say may seem like bullshit. Some made up crap that anyone could say, but seeing as I'm the future you. Shut up and listen up!

That despair you feel will disappear. Happiness is on the horizon. Your future is seizure free. It won't be easy getting there though.

You'll realize yes you are loved and you would have been missed. To your great surprise you'll get married. I know you have visions of being that old lonely lady who bought a hundred cats to die slowly of horrible allergies.

You'll be a mom to. I know the thought scares you and intrigues you. Don't worry you'll do fine. You have a wonderful husband who won't let you insult yourself.

That faith thing your so worried about. Don't worry you'll find it. He'll answer your cry. In fact your faith was strong enough for you to marry a pastor who feeds your faith everyday.

Your life will be filled with joy. You'll dream again. All the crap  you suffer will only make you care for others even more.

Sincerely,
Your Future Self. 

Unseen Storm-by Susan Thomas

There is a calm, before the storm.

You can’t see it coming.

When it takes you,

in a whirlwind of terror,

it robs you of your breath,

your consciousness,

your freedom,

sometimes your life.

When it lets go,

assuming your limp body,

still has life,

your left with confusion.

Why are you on the ground?

Why are people staring?

Why are you crying?

Your head throbs,

eyes heavy,

body weak.

This reoccurring storm,

you keep secret.

Hoping against hope,

that it doesn’t take you,

in public view.

It’s a shameful thing.

A thing misunderstood.

A thing that is feared.

A thing that becomes,

one giant YOU CAN’T.

A thing that keeps you alone.

Alone in a sea of millions,

all just like you.

A sea with a monster that lurks beneath,

victims screaming SUDEP.

The sea a terrifying ride,

where discrimination and hate,

are the norm.

The unaffected turn a blind eye,

and try to ignore the screams,

of those drowning in fear,

and isolation.

This sea called epilepsy,

where many are prisoner,

receives no lifeboat.

Those screaming victims,

just don’t matter.

It Lurks- By Susan Thomas

It's not supposed to happen,
not to you anyway.
We all think it
as we watch that movie
with a over sized bowl of popcorn.
Stories of possession and demonic hauntings
just don't happen in the real world
but the thought is fearful.
It seems ridiculous and absurd.
When that evil creeps into your home
you can't accept it.
Things like that don't happen.
You make excuses
for what can't be explained.
It was the TV.
It was the wind.
It was only a dream.
Ignore the chill creeping up your spine.
Ignore the terror in your gut.
Never mind you avoid going home.
Those arguments that come from nowhere
that make no sense
that have no winner
are just part of human nature.
Your babe's spine tingling scream of terror,
is just a cry.
He must be hungry.
The evil intensifies.
Growling, cursing, yelling
all with that rancid voice.
Surely it was your imagination.
Nothing to worry about.
Still you begin to pray more.
Prayer once a chore
now a small comfort.
You still run from acceptance,
but ask the pastor to bless the house.
Perhaps it will ease your stomach.
In the back of your mind
you know the truth
as the crosses on the walls begin to multiply.
Still in denial
the evil angry
it wants you gone
it will do anything to make you leave.
It attacks your precious babe.
The sound of your boy
unable to breathe
terrifies you to your very soul.
Rush in horror to his crib
he can breathe now
he screams in terror
The claw like hand print
on his chest
jars you from your slumber of denial.
It dared attack your baby.
You curse the thing.
Let it know that God dwells with your family.
You know you haven't the strength for this battle.
You know it's time to leave.
You pack
praying it doesn't follow
praying that god will protect your family
You leave
and never return
to that house where evil lives.

Honor of a Name- By Susan Thomas

Why should the name offend?
Isn't it an honor to hear the name?
Redskin, Indian.
Affecntionate terms our ancestors,
called yours.
Don't they bring back fond memories?
Redskin is an honor of a name,
don't you think?
Much like nigger.
I'm sure the memories of how they came here,
are nothing but pleasent.
Or even chink,
surely there is no negative in such a name.
Just as redskin,
is harmless.
Does it really matter,
that our ancestors shouted that name,
as they raped and murdered your people?
It couldn't bother you,
that it was probably used
as your people were beaten
on that godforsaken march.
A march that killed so many.
Don't you find in honor in it?
Surely the name is a proud one,
just like savage,
nigger,
chink,
or even cracker.
Why complain?
How could a name,
with such rich history,
possibly offend?

Judgement Day- By Susan Thomas

No one expects to die really. We all just kind of muddle our way through life expecting to live forever. Never thinking that one day we will be the ones in a coffin. Unfortunately reality had caught up to me sooner than I expected. I was only around forty and had died of a very sudden heart attack. Despite dying earlier than I had expected I was confident that I would soon be enjoying the pleasures of heaven. There was a short line of recently deceased all waiting to be judged. I was at the end.

The two men in front of me I recognized. I never knew them personally, but one had been on the news and the other had been a neighbor.  The man who had been on the news hadn't exactly been a role model as you may have guessed. He had made the news a few days ago because he had shot and killed his family as they slept. He then called 911 and then shot himself in the head before the authorities could arrive. He left a note saying he didn't have a choice. That he thought killing them would make the voices go away, but they still screamed and swore. So he blew his brains out to make it all stop. No one I knew felt sorry for the man. I couldn't wait to see the man dragged down to hell where he would suffer for the crime he had committed.

The other man had been a neighbor. A man that disgusted me just by looking at him. He was openly gay and wasn't sorry for it. Him and his partner even had adopted a little girl. I felt sorry for the child not because she had just lost a dad, but because she had been exposed to such perverse behavior at such a young age. The child wouldn't have a chance in life. He hated to think of the man being condemned to hell, but he had made his choices. Now he would have to pay the price for his decisions.

The line moved steadily. Inching its way forward in a steady pace. I couldn't believe how fast the line was moving. I wished lines had moved like this when I was still alive. Finally it was the murderer's turn to be judged. I was close enough that I could hear and see what was going on. The man stood before God. He listened as God listed all his sins. To my surprise the man broke down sobbing. As if he might really be sorry.

     "I'm so sorry lord. I truly am. I don't why I did most of those things. I've already readied myself for your punishment. Please send me away from your sight. It's the least I deserve."

Then to my astonishment Jesus who had been at his Father's side stepped forward and looked at the man with nothing but compassion. He walked up to the man and wiped his tear and turned back to his father.

    "Father, I know this man. I suffered with him and I paid his price."

God nodded and opened a giant book. It had a slight glow and he scanned the pages. A smile came across his face as he found what he was looking for. His smile was huge and heart warming. He looked at the man with nothing but love.

    "Sir, you sinned, but you embraced my son. You knew him and so he died for you. You are free to pass. You will find that your family is already waiting for you. They hold no grudge towards you. They are just happy that you no longer suffer."

     The man was then escorted by two brillant and terrifying angels to the gates of heaven. It was then I noticed the demonic presence in the room. They booed and hissed as they saw the man's soul saved and escorted to heaven.

     "We'll claim a soul yet, you bastard!" shouted one of them to God and his son.

It was then my neighbor's turn. I turned to watch his judgement. This was going to be painful to watch. He seemed like a good man, but he chose to sin. I braced myself for the worst. He stood before God and listened without response to his list of sins. He just seemed to stand there and let them soak in. I couldn't hear the sins. It confused me, but perhaps the sins were only meant to be heard by the one being judged at the time.

     "I'm sorry Lord for my sins. I tried to follow you, but I was selfish. I kept thinking of what I wanted and forgot  that you already had something in mind for me."

Jesus once again stood up and walked over to the man being judged. He smiled and embraced him warmly. As if greeting an old friend and then turned to his father. He paused for a moment as if thinking what to say. The demons in the backround hissed in antcipation.

    "Father, once more I must say I know this man. I know him well. He and I have been friends for a very long time. I know he messed up from time to time, but I paid that price. I died for him. His bill has been taken care of."

I was astounded at his words. The man was a sinner. Did he not have to be condemened? Once again God checked his book and that same warm smile crept across his face. He welcomed him and even aplogized for the behavior of those who claimed to follow him. Two angels escorted him to the gates of heaven as the demons once agained hissed and booed.

At this point I was so furious that God could accept such horrible people that I didn't hear them call my name. It was my turn to be judged. An angel nudged me forward. The demons seemed happy to see me. It was creepy. I took my place before God. He then began to list my sins. The list seemed to go on forever. It was making me dizzy. I thought I might pass out from the lengthy list.  When he finished he looked at me waiting for a response. I paused waiting for Jesus to stand and greet me as well, but he just looked at me with a deep sorrow.

     "I know I sinned. I'm not perfect, but I tried hard to follow you. To live a life you would be proud of? Surely your son knows this!"

Jesus looked at me for a moment, but did not stand.

     "My dear stranger, I knocked at the door of your heart every day for years. Many times I thought you might actually invite me in, but your hate and judgement of others was more important to you. I found that door being slammed in my face time and time again."

I couldn't believe it. Were they rejecting me? I memorized whole passages of the bible, spread his word, and lived life proclaiming his name. How on earth could I be turned away! They had to know me.

     "My lords,  I read the word, spread the good news, and lived life never denying you. I have shown nothing but devotion to you!"

As the words passed my lips I saw a sudden furry come over God. He looked at me with anger and what seeemed like disdain.

"Yes, you read the word, but did not understand it! I told you to love your neighbor and your enemies. Instead you laid judgement on them and allowed hate to grow in your heart. You did not spread any news I support. You took the word. Took the message and distorted it. You told people that I wouldn't accept them for who they are. You told them my kingdom was for people like you alone! You have destroyed faith in others and given the people the impression that I am a hateful and bigoted God. Your words were posion and came only from the devil. You denied me everyday. Everytime you whispered words of disgust about people you did not know or understand you denyed me! If you knew me you would have embraced them and welcomed them as friends! Get out of my sight stranger! I know you not and neither does my son!"

Before I knew what happened laughing and cackling demons surrounded me and began to drag me to hell as I screamed for mercy. I tried to remind god who I was with my screams as I was dragged away, but to my dismay another was already standing before him being judged.

War Cry- By Susan Thomas

Anger, an all consuming emotion.
Many hold tight to it as if it were gold.
Holding it tight,
letting the anger twist and contort their heart.
Fearful that forgiveness,
might inflict a pain that is worse.
Perhaps forgiving will tear them apart.

Believing with conviction,
that forgiveness,
makes unspeakable evils right.
That to forgive,
means to approve the horrid.
Thinking that to forgive a tyrant, like Hitler,
makes the blood he shed,
with his tongue of hate,
somehow justified.

That to forgive means,
forgetting the knife in your back,
forgetting the pain inflicted,
declaring that being a victim is pleasurable.

Oh, how wrong they are.
Forgiveness is a wonderfully selfish thing.
It's refusing to bow down to the past.
Rejecting cruelty and tyranny.
It heals your heart and soul.

To forgive is letting out a war cry.
A cry against the hurt,
against the betrayl.
A cry declaring,
determination to move on.
Stating to the world,
you will be your own master.
Pain is not a road block,
but fuel to keep moving.

"Nothing of Love" Chapter 3 - Elsie Heberling

    Springtime was slowly advancing over the earth, sweeping before it a promise of warmer, brighter days.  But there was little brightness in the outlook of Philip DuFrow as he walked slowly toward the small church.

    As he took his place with the class of young men, some of whom were of the second generation he had taught since entering this work, his thoughts were dark indeed.  But his interpretations and explanations, his visions and inspirations, were up to his usual standards.  The responses and eager questions he received were the means by which he was partly sustained during the ordeal he was passing through.  He looked up to see Maggie in another  class and wondered how she could reconcile her professed religious beliefs with her real actions.

    With the conclusion of the service, Philip stopped to speak with his father.  After inquiring for his mothers' welfare, he decided to tell his father of his plans to sell his home.

    The elder DuFrow was perplexed.  "But why, Philip, why, when you have one of the nicest and most modern homes in town, why give it up?"
      "There are reasons, father, that I would rather not go into."
    Anxiously, he asked, "Is it financial, Phil?"
      "No, nothing like that, if it were, I could find a way to deal with it, but I'm afraid you would not understand if I tried to tell you."  After a pause in which neither one spoke, Philip said again, "I'm afraid I don't understand it myself."
    Another pause, then, "Is it Maggie?"
      "I would rather not talk of it now, dad, maybe another time.  Tell mother I'll see her soon."  With that he walked quickly away, leaving his father to look after him with very sad eyes.

    Edward DuFrow looked up from his luncheon plate to find his wife's eyes fastened on his face.  When their eyes met, she asked, "What troubles you, Edward?"
      "Well, I guess I may as well tell you that Phil is going to sell his home and move into one of those new apartments in Northwood."
    Nelda DuFrow was aghast.  "Oh, no, Edward!"
      "Yes, that's right, he wouldn't tell me the reason, but it's not hard to guess."
    Tears came into Nelda's eyes as she exclaimed, "Maggie is a devil!"
      "Those are pretty strong words, Nelda."
    Anger flared in Nelda.  "They are not strong enough to express what I feel.  I don't see how we could have been so deceived by her."
      "I often wonder too, but it's too late now to speculate, we must continue treating her as we always have."

    In Philip's home they were all seated at the luncheon table, all but Maggie, who was eating alone in the kitchen, as she had for some time.  The children had become accustomed to this arrangement by now, having been told that their mother was in a nervous state, and it was necessary for her to be quiet, especially at meals.  If they had their own opinions on this, they kept them to themselves.  It was never mentioned after the first two or three days.  Their father hated this with all his soul, but felt helpless in the situation.  He knew he could never tell them the truth.  To tell them it was because their mother hated him, and felt contaminated in his presence for having (in her own words) forced a large family on her, and that in her belief, they were not really married, was unthinkable.

    It was still early evening when Philip walked down the street on his way to the hardware store.  Passing the Kenwick home, he saw Tom and Mary in the yard, trimming the shrubbery, and decided to stop and chat for a short while.
   
    He was greeted by his father-in-law, saying, "Well, how's the preacher."
    Irked, Phil replied, "I am not a preacher, Kenwick, and as I have said before, I would thank you to stop referring to me as such."

    Tom Kenwick looked down from his greater height, as if seeing Phil for the first time.  "I don't know why I allowed my girl to marry you in the first place."

    Philip had been insulted by this man so many times, that he had come to the place where he could ignore it, but now replied with cold sarcasm, "Maggie was old enough to marry without your consent, and you wanted a son-in-lay who would be an easy tough for a loan."
      'Not don't be a smart alek, runt."

    Anger rose in Phil like a strong wind.  He was not a runt, but certainly much shorter than the big man who stood before him.  "Alright, so I'm a runt, but I can beat hell out of your anytime you are ready."  With blazing eyes he stood waiting, but when the other once did not move, he walked away.

    Mary, with the small wrinkled face and sad eyes, hurried after him.  "Philip, don't be angry with Tom.  He don't mean the things he says, though I know he shouldn't say them."  She placed her hand on his arms as she spoke.  Now he looked into the troubled eyes, as he said, "Never mind, little mother, I'll just forget it, but I'll not be coming around again.  No use antagonizing each other over nothing, and you take good care of yourself,"  He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze and left.

    He had always liked this small woman, who was in constant struggle to appease her husbands' belligerence.  Tom Kenwick reveled in the situation.  Thrusting him into the center of attention from his family as it did, gave him a sense of satisfaction, and at times, as of this evening, as feeling of unholy glee.

    Tom did not dislike Philip, it was his way of bringing other people, as he expressed it, down to earth.  That certain ones needed this assistance always puzzled them, especially to be brought down by one like Tom.

    Philip entered the hardware store of Rodney Benson, finding himself the only customer at the moment, and being greeted by Rod.  "I was beginning to wonder if it paid to stay open in the evenings.  You're the first customer I've had in half an hour."
      "Well, I'm glad you are open tonight anyway, I couldn't find the time today, and I need a new lock for my garage door.  Someone broke the one I had, got in, and  some of my tools have disappeared."
      "That's hard luck, Phil, do you have any idea of who did it?"
      "Not, I  don't, not the slightest.  I know almost everyone in town and I haven't the least suspicion of who it could have been."
      "Well, you know, there are a lot of new people coming in faster than we can provide housing for them, and that new town at Northwood is bringing in all kinds."
      "I know, Rod, and it is bringing in new business for us.  The Bellfried Lumber Co. business has just about doubled for us."
      "That's great, but what's this I hear about your selling your home?"
      "You've heard it right, Rod, I'm selling and moving into an apartment in Northwood."

    Rod Benson looked at his friend with unbelieving eyes, "But why, Phil, you have a beautiful home, and practically new, besides, this is your home."
      "I know all that, Rod, and please don't ask me why, all I can say is that it is not my wish."
      "Just as you say, Phil, but I think it a darned shame.  We'll miss you."

    Phil tried making it sound casual, but his voice had a slight huskiness as he replied, "Oh, I'll be back every day, I expect to keep my place in the business."  Rod Benson watched his friend walk toward the street, and was sure his steps were not as brisk as usual.

    The following morning Grace Benson made a call on her friend, Lois Elliot.  "I just had to tell you, Lois, that it's true that the DuFrows are leaving town.  Phil told Rod last night, but he also told him it was not by his choice they were going, so what do you make of that?"
    Wonderingly, Lois replied, "Well, if not his wish, who is left to make such a decision but Maggie."
      "You're right, but why Maggie, why does she want to leave?"
      "I'm sure I wouldn't know, Grace, and I have had no intention of mentioning this to anyone, but since this has come about, I'm asking you if you have notice anything strange about Maggie recently?"
      "Well, yes, in a certain way...but she continues to be the same kind of considerate person she's always been."

    Lois was thoughtful for a moment, then said, "Now Grace, I don't want to start anything, an unpleasant rumor, so say nothing, but has it occured to you that she and Philip are having marital difficulties?"
      "I'll confess I've had a thought about that, but never entertained it long, because they both are such fine persons, that it really could not be."
      "I'm glad you feel that way, I would hate to see it happen."
      "Me too, Lois, but now I must get home again, I just wanted you to know it was true they are going."

    That evening the household of Philip and Maggie was thrown into a state of excitement by a telephone call from David Douglas with the news that a baby boy had been born to Betsy and himself.  Both the mother and infant were doing fine.

    Ruth was especially happy.  "At last we have a cousin, I thought that was never going to happen."  Young Edward advanced the thought that it would "be a long time before he could be a cub scout."  Jennifer wondered what his name would be.  Paul was "Sure Aunt Betsey would be a good mother."  Maggie's only remark - "Betsy had as much right to have a baby as anyone else, and I never understood why Susan never had one."  That comment was not exactly one for family discussion, which thus dribbled into silence.  Philip noticed a note of spite in Maggie's voice when she spoke of Susan, so said nothing.  He was happy for Betsy and David.

    Kerry Kenwick was thirty-two, five years younger than his sister Maggie.  Never having married, he now felt he had found a girl he wished to make his own.  Kerry was tall and sturdy like his father, but bore his mother's nature, with the dark handsomeness of many Irishmen.  Polly Dixson was tall and blond and very much in love with Kerry.  His mother was pleased, as she felt he should marry and sometimes wondered if he ever would find one whom he wanted.  The wedding would be in June.

    When Philip and Maggie learned of their plans, Philip was first to offer congratulations.  "I'm happy for both of you, Kerry, but we'll be in Northwood by that time."
    Kerry was surprised.  "You mean you are going through with that, Phil?"
      "Yes, that's right, and I don't mind telling you that I have no choice if I want to keep my family."

    Kerry turned to his sister with a look in his eyes such as she had never seen before.  She cringed as he said, "Maggie, you're a fool!"  Never had he spoken to her in that manner.  Now she was hurt and humiliated.  As brother and sister, they had been found of each other, now she didn't understand.  As she turned away, she replied, "You know nothing about it, so keep your opinions to yourself."

    And Kerry did.  Never again did he mention the subject between his sister and Philip, but secretly, he was in sympathy with Philip.  The two men walked slowly across the lawn that was already turning green, when Kerry said, "It's too bad you are leaving before the wedding, because I was going to ask permission to have the reception in your garden.  It's the loveliest spot in this town."
    Phil didn't look up.  "You know, Kerry, I've put as many work hours into this garden as it took to build the house."
      "And that is not included in the selling price?"
      "No, Kerry, there is no price for that, it has all been a work of love, first because I wanted my family to have it, secondly, I like creating things with my own hands."  Phil's voice ended on a sad note which did not escape the man beside him.
      "Well, Phil, all I can say is, that your giving it up is the damnedest arrangement I ever heard of."  Philip did not answer and the two walked in silence to the sidewalk.  "I'll see you later, Phil."  "Sure, Kerry."

    Philip watched the other disappear, then turned slowly and walked to the back of the house where he had been mulching the soil around the rose bushes, remembering this would be the last time he would be performing this task.  And why he was doing it now, he didn't know, except he loved doing the work.  Perhaps the new owner would permit him to come back in the summer and sit awhile.

    He was not well acquainted with the man, only the hour or two when he had shown him the house and premises, which had been his only contact with him.  All transactions had been carried out with an agent.  Philip know only that he was an official of the new steel mill at Northwood, and that he must vacate by the first of May.

    The stone that had lodged in his heart a long time ago, grew in weight each day.  He was seeing his garden now as it would be in summer.  He had traveled many miles to acquire rare plants and shrubbery to feast their eyes on.  The pool yawned empty, but later would be filled with sparkling water where the lillies would lift their pure white faces with their golden hearts, and gold fish would cavort.  The big fat frogs that had so delighted the children, would sound off with the mournful croaking of their loneliness.  The rustic furniture he had himself built, would be in plance for others to enjoy.  It all added up to a pain that at times became all but unbearable.