I Am Not the Bird Who Eats the Mayfly

I am not the bird who eats the mayfly.

I am not the grass-snake approaching in silence to feed itself on the frog.

I am not the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to the Saudis who are destroying a country where a child  strives to survive, though all skin and bones with legs as thin as bamboo sticks,

My heart is with the twelve-year-old girl, a refugee on a small boat, who will not throw herself into the ocean because I shall prevent her being raped by a sea pirate;

And I am certainly not the pirate because my heart is fully capable of seeing and loving.

I am no member of the Border Patrol, whose exorbitant power I abhor and, if I must, I will pay with my blood to restrain and drain its power so that no more children, torn from their parents,  perish in detention camps from self-inflicted death.

I will not acquiesce to the feigned ministration of justice by a pompous hypocrite.

I shall wage constant battle against those who merely shrug their shoulders, pleading ignorance or apathy; and against others who, with callous intent, scheme to advance their noxious agenda.

And I shall constantly continue my struggle against my shadow side as did Jacob with the angel who could not prevail over him, for though I may walk away limping, I will have emerged victorious.

And I will have been transformed.