Martyr to the cause
I will speak what’s in my heart
In the name of love
Many people think of the word, martyr as meaning one who sacrifices himself or herself. Yet that concept was a later interpretation. The original meaning of the Greek word, martys, was of one who bears witness to what he knows or has seen. However, it also came to refer to the fact that someone who is truly committed to the truth would be prepared to die for the sake of truth; thus, a martyr.
Anger that cannot be expressed in words of single syllables
Spoken with such venom as to frighten e’en the brave
Words, frustration-born and vicious, defamation in their wake
To punish those whose motives are only true and just
Speech that tolerates no mercy with honour cast aside
Respect a mere illusion the upright to deride
Assassinate the character of those who came to help
Creating phantom sickness to cover true intent
Wild accusations flying ‘gainst those who came to rescue
Whose only “crime” is caring, who saved you from yourself
A soap box, neatly positioned to spout specious arguments
Before so-called friends, while victims stay publicly silent,
Protecting the integrity of those dishonouring them
And of those who would suffer most
And why?
Perhaps a need to justify a conscience seared with sin
Perhaps because of jealousy barely hidden deep within
Perhaps because of knowing the ignored advice was wise
Perhaps because the innocent are unable to defend themselves
Brazen conduct masquerades as indignation
Against the protectors of future generations
A challenge thrown down to those who turn the other cheek
Be careful what you wish for, oh would-be assassin
You might just get it
And who will you hide behind, then?
Father and mother are definitions of physical facts
Daddy and Mammy are privileges that have to be earned
If you could relive one year of your life, which one would it be?
This is an impossible choice.
Every year has its good points and every year has its bad points. And reliving them wouldn’t change a thing.
Each day in each year is precious. They shape us, they change us, and they leave us alone. They give us experiences, whether good or bad. And yet, good or bad, they are precious.
Each day so far has made us what we are. And that’s precious. We are what we are because of each and every one of those days.
I wouldn’t want to relive any day, let alone any year. It might change my view of that day, or that year. And maybe then, I wouldn’t be the person I am. And maybe then, I wouldn’t want to relive that year.
No. It’s an impossible choice. Because every day is precious.
What’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done when no one was watching?
I took that journey into myself, that “road less traveled”. And I came out the other side a better person.
