Internal Conflicts

Internal Conflicts long poem

Photo by Casey David

I find comfort in self pity.
Belittling myself,
my actions and even the mere five second thoughts of my success.
I’m tied up by this part of me.
The part I’m inevitably dependent on.
It is the initial segment of my triune make up.
It’s the force that tugs at the strings that are innately interconnected to this lifeless shell.
The mind.
Is it possible to be free from the mind?
To be free from the intangible parallel to the physical?

I am suffering.
I am being ripped to shreds,
tortured.
The victim stuck in the dungeon.
Drops of blood leaching from every pore, the natural act of secreting fluids is my vent of complete frustration.
I am the victim and I am the victimizer.
I am the student and the teacher,
the parent and the child,
the eraser and the pencil,
the author and the character.
Do you see?
God said, “be transformed by the renewing of your mind”,
He did not say get a new one.

That just means I HAVE TO address this cyclic relationship.
Like a adventurous height fearing customer on a ferris wheel,
like a pet owner and its human,
like food and individuals, the constant tuck and war, love and hate, sweet and sour, black and white.
Two contradictions we are.
Friends and enemies.
Like a trigonometric expression and its angle.

Okay.
Fact.
I cannot simply detach myself.
But wait.
Let’s go back.
Cupping my hands to my ears, squinting my eyes, quieting my inner me.
I hear a voice,
not unfamiliar,
however still not mine.
I hear a mediator.
“Who datt?” switching to my Jamaican drawl, addressing the anonymous.
The Holy Spirit.
Smirking to myself.
The answer being hand written on the rugged surfaces of my heart.
The smear marks wiped away from my spiritual eyes.
“Romans 12: 2”, the Holy spirit whispers.
“Be transformed…”, my mind and my spirit having a heart to heart.
My mind, battered and cynical, releasing from its bruised thorax,
“How?”
“By the renewing of your mind”.
Unable to comprehend, my mind releases another winded response,
“Renew?”.
Now at wits end, my mind puts on the well-needed spectacles, as he flips through scholarly articles.
Coughing.
Sweating.
“Renew?” he repeated.
Renew: to give fresh life or strength to.
Empathetically the Spirit pulls from his back pocket a napkin, wiping the red pigmented sweat from the brows of the mind.
“Push, you’re almost there.”
2 Corinthians 12: 9 – “… for my power is made perfect in weakness”.
Psalms 28: 7- “ The Lord is my strength and my shield”.
His crocked fingers releasing the stubby pencil.
“Be transformed by giving fresh strength to your mind, which is the Lord. And the Lord was the Word, and the Word became flesh, that is Jesus Christ”- John 1: 1, 14.

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My Internal Rose

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