The fighter and the lover
I was born a fighter. Hurtling down a corridor in full crawl, swearing and spitting at my brother for some offence done to me, my first spoken word was a cuss.
I think of Nelson Mandela, 27 years in prison, the age of my daughter as I write. 27 years of refining his fighter and becoming a lover who fights with love.
Who, as he left his shackles, left any resentment he had towards his jailers. He walked free. Free of hate. Free of war. Free of retribution. Free of revenge.
I watch the rise of the young who choose to fight through dignity, respect, care and love.
Who go high. Higher. Higher still.
The pull of the dark side is strong. To fall into the abyss of hate, revenge, and anger-filled justice.
The lovers, the poets, the artists – those who inspire beauty, respect and dignity for all – this – this is the antidote to evil and ugly.
Beauty shall save the world. We need the fighter and the lover expressed as one.
July 21st 2018
Photo Taken July 21st 2018
