Misplaced

I saw problems, I saw shocks, I saw destruction, I saw hell.

From the day we arrived and all our belongings were destroyed, destruction was the key event in our new home.  I thought we were dealing with death and rebirth, but as time progresses, all I see is death of all that is budding and new, not just the departure of the old, as we explained it to ourselves.  We have arrived to a cruel place, where punishment is relentless.  Excuses are failing, the dream is becoming a nightmare, and heaven has turned to hell.

People are rich or otherwise, a place that breeds greed and indifference.  Problems are passed onto others, and those that have not are resentful, dishonest, and cruel.  And nature, lovely nature, is relentlessly punishing.
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When so much that matters seems crushed
By a self-consuming world,
Where else do we turn,
But to that which revives our Spirit
And nourishes our Soul.
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I wake up to another day in hell.  Emotional pain is physical, unbearable, horrifying.  I shift from despair to cold fear.  This is not poetic symbolism; this is body and soul terror.  My girls are plagued with flesh consuming parasites again, and I have no way of fixing this, no way of helping them.

I keep praying to a god I do not believe in, for there is nothing I can do.  6 million Jews were terrorised and slaughtered in the holocaust, and no one helped them.  No one will help me, not in this world.  I feel maybe only the truth will liberate me from the trap in which I find myself, but I do not know what this truth is.

I have a recurring dream that I am lost.  In earlier years, I was desperate to get back to my children.  Sometimes I lost them, and couldn’t find them.  Other times I got lost myself, and couldn’t find my way home to them.  Frantic, I would try to get back, waking before we were united.  I would try to get back to the dream, so I could find them, so that we would be together.  Now I am alone, in an unrecognisable terrain.  I have left my home and lost my way, not knowing how to get back, no money, no friends, no helping soul.  The last such dream I had, I made contact with a girl, who helped me some.

And now I am here, my paradise home a paradise no more.  My reality a surreal nightmare.  My truth elusive at best.  Pain and fear crippling, anguish an emotional relief.  How can people fear death when it is the only escape?  A curious end to a puzzling beginning, it serves to lighten the weight of this ‘reality’.

In a self-consuming world we are all predators or prey.  We give birth to our children with love.  We love them still.  We consume and are consumed.  We shift from terror to guilt, to denial when it gets too much.  We choose to believe in higher ground, in a better place, in heaven, in a home.  My perpetual ever returning belief that ‘things will work out’, ‘it’s all for the best’, ‘it’s a blessing in disguise’, and so on, tells me this is not home.  My instinctive return to an inner joy, repeatedly extinguished by the cruelty of this world, revived by a subtle underlying force, like a wound being hacked at again and again within a current of eternal healing, tells me I am misplaced.  My relentless search for happiness is not foolish, it is mismatched with my environment.  I am lost, detached, alone.  Looking around for my truth in a place that does not encompass me is searching for something that resides elsewhere, maybe in the place that I belong.  I need to find my way back home, together with my loved ones, forever.