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Civil War – A Feminine View

So many stories to tell, stories behind closed doors, stories of love, of anguish, of failed lives and wishes that were never realized.   And still we each believe that our own story is bigger, more intricate, more sad.   Until somehow, a blustering wind blows through and reveals the travesty of barren land.

The grass is like stalks of scraping corn, lashing our legs as we romp through it’s fields.   Exalted in delight we know nothing of what it means to be a coward and gleefully embark on what is simply a moment in time.

You are simply you, and I am simply I, and the world is simply an extension of nature. That is all. And that is all it should be.

But somewhere in the sphere of evolution reality embraces us and for some, that reality is rooted in far more cryptic places than others.   And a schism is revealed.   But for those of the more refined years, we remember a wholly different world.

While some talk of great-grandparents, I can only attest to my parents and to a lesser degree – their parents.   Because such things were rarely discussed, and less likely debated!   Privacy was everything.   And one would not dream of challenging that morality.

I suppose I am considered of the generation that altered the internal makings of America, the US.   We created the feminists, the druggees, the rioters, the extremists, and even the anarchists!   They were born of my generation.   And I feel that despite this nuance, I, personally, am not to blame.   Any more than I, personally, am not to blame for the Fall of the Roman Empire and the succeeding Dark Ages.

And whether ‘blame ‘ is relevant, seems of no consequence as we spiral into the abyss that is reality.

My parents never argued in our presence, they never disputed what was appropriate for each of us, my five siblings and I, they relegated roles and those roles were absolute.   It would seem, that the absence of those roles is at the forefront of the decimation we now call normal.

Earth has actually changed little compared to those that inhabit its wealth of abundance. Our climate has changed, as it always has… our environment has seen much devastation, as it always has, and yet everything is considered – more different than it ever has been.

Art is frail.   Few can appreciate the images in the clouds.   Or the color of the horizon.   Fewer can understand the value of relation or comprehend its objective, its gift, or its worth.   Only a coward flees relationship.   The one meaning that gives us life.   The bastion of existence.

I look upon the expanse of mountains and sky across the perimeter that is my view and see God’s creation in it’s fullest.   I see the purple mountains that are now called ‘green’, the blistering blue sky that has been colored red, and the staunch demonstrative trees that defy definition or death despite the cholera of viruses levied upon them.

There is a stillness in the air tonight.   As though nature is waiting.   The birds are quiet. The squirrels have gone into hiding, and all life awaits in trepidation what will be – tomorrow.

I am told to purchase more guns.   I am told that within a few short months, my life will likely be expired. And it will not be without torture and pain. And somehow, these men of allegiance and defiance seem to believe that I, as a female of a different generation should confront and fire!   Alone.

And I begin to wonder are the heroes heroic?   Or do they simply splay the words as it becomes every ‘person’ for themselves?   And heroism is simply another term to describe self.

I am ambushed by descriptions of women who are not ‘feminine’ by men who are not masculine.   And the lack of masculinity is decried as a direct product of the failure of women.   Which women?   Me…?

Would you rescue me?

Unfortunately, the answer is – no.

Would you protect me?

Unfortunately, I am lumped into the feminist and the answer is – no.

Why?

Because.   Because somewhere in the cycle of life, feminists altered the schism and thus gave men a pass to no longer care.   And in that schism, some of us are left to fight a cold war without a gun.   I may be a victim of the post election trauma, and that is seemingly more and more plausible.   But telling me to ‘get a gun and fight like a man’ has about as much viability as me telling you to dress like a woman and dance a jig.

It defines the cowardice of manning up to protect and commit.   And shows that men have derailed themselves into a world defined by those whom they call abhorrent connivers, stealers, whorers, and unworthy – while justifying their means.

Yes, this describes some, not all, and yes, this would tend to describe those within my sphere, and no, I am not a feminist, but – in my passing, I would say, I gave my all!  I tried.  I am afraid.   And I will likely be – expired.

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