Dramas

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“Around makeshift fireplaces our kids huddled, bleeding and befuddled. We tried to explain it all away, how we were just naive travelers who had gotten caught in the crossfire. Some of our tribe had actually been stripped of life, true! Collateral damage, the overlords will say with a smirk. We were suffering statistics. We were literally shell-shocked but nobody cared. It was all so disillusioning. The air force had done this to us, our own government had bombed us. How was this even possible? We now understood why many Latin Americans feel the way they do. The bitterness of young goths? We shared it. The anger of metal heads? We were red hot with it… Our twenties dissipated while she and I simmered off the grid and out of sight, like bears cocooning in caves, healing the deepest wounds in our minds. Putting the pieces of our shattered faith in humanity back together. And then the rains came, and the river of creativity that had run dry finally flooded its banks again! In our change of hearts we settled downstream on our newer truths, our revised Principles, what sacred rights must never be washed away. Not because rigid ass dogma, but why deny life lessons learned?… And one day, by accident, we rediscovered Love. We began to remember life, the buds emerged and opened and the past receded. Slowly, we recalled how to daydream of being fertile again as the erotic birds and bees murmured in our skies, and our honey grew sweeter in all its dimensions, love more beautiful than we had ever dared to conceive!… But as for our older kids? They remember, they have nightmares. Their verdict is not in yet. Our youngest ones were emotionally charred, and they are still afraid to climb down from their secret inner perches and be normal. It is a big ass risk, you know. When you have PTSD, you don’t want to admit you might enjoy life after wartime…”

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