I have been told
that I do not know half
of what I think I know,
and half of what I think
is probably unprovable
or simply, untrue.
Therefore, my assumable problems
become astounding, by nature
and moving closer to the truth
I have been told that in the case
of Nature vs Nurture
Nature always wins.
But, how so?
Is there ever a winner
or a loser; and if so
haven’t we all lost enough?
What has to happen
to understand that it does not pay
to lose more?
Or perhaps I think too much
or maybe I digress
or maybe the word “regress” is more fitting
and I find myself regressing
back to some kind of uncontrolled
or unpacified existence;
and so, I go back to being live and unwell
in the constant state of some comfortable conflict.
The war is over.
I know this . . .
But the fight is still real to me.
Whereas in the cases of Me vs Myself and I,
nature proved a point when discussing genetics
or when the prosecution accused “me” as “I am”
I realized that I otherwise known as
the leopard who tried to die
because I could never change my spots.
However, nurture provided its defense
and to its defense
Nurture offered a dynamic argument –
Whereas, I am me and you are you
as I see it,
there is more to us than this.
There is more to us
and more to life
and more in store
than what was.
I know this is true.
I know the ideas that all “that was,”
still is
and all of what was, is all we ever will be.
But respectfully,
I refuse
and decline
and reject the idea
that nature cannot be changed,
Understand something –
The distance between the way
we measure our environment
is different from someone who never knew
or someone who never saw,
and you and I
we are different from someone
who never felt the sting of the blade.
We are different from someone
who never understood the feelings of numbness
which happens in a moment of awareness
just before the pain sets in.
Stand and rise
Do not go back.
Do not give in.
Do not look away from the horizon
and do not look away from her
or her beauty
because this is Heaven
telling you behold,
today
you will be with me in paradise.
Forgive me . . .
I am only a man.
I fail to see more than my sights allow.
But rather than regress,
let me confess this to you now
—I am weak
and slow
tired, and bound
and searching for salvation.
As it was in the beginning
is now
and will be forever
(Amen)
Blessed Mother
watch over me
Saint Max, at Auschwitz
Saint Dismas, on the Cross
Lord, hear my prayer.
The Written Addiction 