"my brother the coward -- finding the courage of love" All bullies are cowards, often victims themselves, and fighting their own demons. It has been years since I was a boy, years since I lived in the shadows of violence, but that shadow always hovers near. I was at my nephew’s wedding this past weekend when my brother, aged sixty, sneaked up behind me and squeezed my throat, “You have six second till death. What will you do?” I was sitting down and could have stabbed him with a fork or knife on the table. I could have broken his grip and punched him, or what I did…I mustered every bit of patience and breathed. As a man I am never intimidated by bullies, as I know they are cowards who are deeply traumatized. I possess a strength beyond violence, love. I cannot always love my aggressor, but I can love and value myself. I love myself too much to stoop to the level of violence and hurting another person. In a banquet of people I knew and loved, my brother was gripping my throat. I couldn’t move, it reminded me of my childhood, when my brother or father would suddenly attack. It is more than forty years since we were boys and those memories of violence flooded back. My brother and father were both violent and filled with rage, and I was caught in between. I was a victim of this inexplicable violence and the indifferent silent mother. I lived in a house of fear and shame, unable to defend myself. Now as a man I live in a house of love, but this shadow of violence hovers near. Our home was a glass house of sturdy brick walls. Food on the table, but I was starving. I found sanctuary in a library, and refuge in my imagination, But that wasn’t enough and I tried to kill myself with pills and booze. I was always in trouble, at the principal’s office for disciplinary problems. I was screaming for help, but couldn’t find the words. I ate shards of fear for breakfast, and the undigested fragments tore through my colon. I was always vomiting as a child and thought it was the milk or “A sensitive stomach” as my mother would say.” The pain in my broken bones has lessened, and the scars healed but visible. For years I feared my wife caressing my face. I mistrusted a kind word, and the shadows of my torturers always hovered near. Brother, Can you understand your need to embrace your shame? Do you have the courage to make amends to those you’ve hurt? Are you man enough to ask for forgiveness? But I am no longer a victim, despite the pains in my neck today from that assault, and the flood of memories. I am a man who chooses to love. I am a man who has chosen a life of kindness and peace, built from the fragments of a broken childhood. It is with this love and courage I devour the shadows. And… men, boys, brothers who read this - Where is your courage to speak and act against violence? How is your courage to love spoken every day? Namaya Sept 2013 Hello, I am writing to the men in my life who have been inspirational. In the variety of ways that you speak for a kinder and saner way of life. Some of you are fathers, brothers, teachers, husbands, or one of the many ways that live your life as a loving courageous man. A loving courageous man makes a stand against violence. He acts with dignity and consideration. He admits his ignorance and laughs at his folly. He embraces his humanness with all its faults. I have been working on a collection of poems “MAN UP FOR LOVE!” about the journey of men…my very imperfect journey of learning to be a man. Learning to be a person of kindness and integrity. I had written this poem below, as a response to a painful reminder of my childhood, but in writing this, I am reminded of the many men who have taught me much about kindness and love. We may not always find that family of our soul with our kin, but in the wider world in the company of friends who are sometimes closer than family, we find the kinship we seek. So, to the men in my life, this poem for you. Thank you for your courage to be a man of love, kindness, and integrity. Namaya 12 Sept 2013
Posted on: Thu, 12 Sep 2013 16:58:49 +0000
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