Poetry

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When they said to their oppressors, "We are like nails. The harder you hit us, the deeper you drive us," I visualized unsuspecting carpenters helping to build and solidify the very structures of faith they were trying to eradicate. In their attempt to destroy the ones they were targeting, they were really destroying themselves. They had died within but gone on living. Rather, they had ceased to live but had carried on merely and drearily existing. They had, in fact, traded life for a form of preoccupied and deadly existence. Meanwhile the new sufferings and torments they invented and inflicted only became new tools in the spiritual toolboxes 🧰 of the tormented. These new tools were fitting into and opening new places of growth and what some thought were dubious opportunities.

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