Bent, Not Broken

Life is a perpetual dance between joy and pain, success and failure, achievement and set-back, fulfillment and disappointment. If you’re reading this, however, it means that despite all of the above, you’ve managed to survive. You’re still here and alive. Breathing, if nothing else.

The world is full of canned optimism, little phrases and maxims whose purpose is to uplift, to offer a little ray of sunshine in an otherwise nebulous reality.

Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
It’s not whether you fall down but whether you get back up.

While these and many others serve as quick and easy pick-me-ups, they simply are never enough, resembling too-small a bandage for an often too-big a wound.

Life is a continuous cycle of ups and downs without any remedy or interruption. We are all days away from the next ‘thing’, the next problem, the next trouble, the next fall. Many won’t last, some will linger longer than desired, a few never go away.

…but we continue. We are still here and alive. Breathing, if nothing else.

Poet Jimmy Santiago Baca offered what could possibly be the only solution to this unchanging cycle in life. Reflecting on the harshness of his time in prison, he channels his inner Walt Whitman to create a message of inner peace and acceptance in the face of the cruelty and brutality of being imprisoned.

I offer the poem in its entirety here because, simply, it’s a damn good poem. This season’s writing focus after the piece.

Who Understands Me but Me
by Jimmy Santiago Baca

They turn the water off, so I live without water,
they build walls higher, so I live without treetops,
they paint the windows black, so I live without sunshine,
they lock my cage, so I live without going anywhere,
they take each last tear I have, I live without tears,
they take my heart and rip it open, I live without heart,
they take my life and crush it, so I live without a future,
they say I am beastly and fiendish, so I have no friends,
they stop up each hope, so I have no passage out of hell,
they give me pain, so I live with pain,
they give me hate, so I live with my hate,
they have changed me, and I am not the same man,
they give me no shower, so I live with my smell,
they separate me from my brothers, so I live without brothers,
who understands me when I say this is beautiful?
who understands me when I say I have found other freedoms?

I cannot fly or make something appear in my hand,
I cannot make the heavens open or the earth tremble,
I can live with myself, and I am amazed at myself, my love,
my beauty,
I am taken by my failures, astounded by my fears,
I am stubborn and childish,
in the midst of this wreckage of life they incurred,
I practice being myself,
and I have found parts of myself never dreamed of by me,
they were goaded out from under rocks in my heart
when the walls were built higher,
when the water was turned off and the windows painted black.
I followed these signs
like an old tracker and followed the tracks deep into myself,
followed the blood-spotted path,
deeper into dangerous regions, and found so many parts of myself,
who taught me water is not everything,
and gave me new eyes to see through walls,
and when they spoke, sunlight came out of their mouths,
and I was laughing at me with them,
we laughed like children and made pacts to always be loyal,
who understands me when I say this is beautiful?

While many will never experience first hand the harsh realities of prison life like Mr. Baca, we are all nonetheless inescapably susceptible to life’s thrashings. Acceptance of this, then, seems to be the only way to arrive at any form of peace in the face of such a cold and uncaring reality.

We accept, and we continue. We sway and bend, but don’t break. We continue to be here and alive. Breathing, if nothing else.

For this season’s theme…

we focus on stories of life’s assaults, moments of disappointment, pain, set-back, and failure. More importantly, however, a focus on how it is that we nonetheless continue — one way or another — in the face of inescapable life difficulties. We focus on how all of us — one way or another — walk through life bent but not broken.

As always, any and all submissions are welcomed. Prose, fiction, reflection, poetry, photography, art…all is welcomed.

Come share…and hang in there, friends.