The Injustice of Justice

A life sentence is upon the horizon.

The verdict linked to a statement written in my hand.

I believe all men must pay for their actions, myself included. I believe in justice, I believe in the law, I believe in karma and I believe in retribution.

I also believe in mercy, forgiveness, penitence and rehabilitation.

We’ve entered an era of gray. There is no black and white any longer. What once perceived as simple right or wrong, now holds excuses, reasoning and whole painted pictures.

Is this better? Or has it become simply complicated? Who’s to say, not I. I am grateful to have no hand in the passing of judgment. I play a part of the overall story.

My soul is conflicted with the gray area.

I’ve never believed in what might have been. A waste of time and time is precious.

Taking a person’s life is a high price to pay for a crime. It is a sentencing generally linked to taking another’s. Though that is not the reality of this particular case, which has left me with question in my own actions.

I made a decision awhile ago that I would be a voice for the downtrodden, the weak and the damaged.

Words mean nothing without action.

Elie Wiesel said it best, “We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” A lesson I have learned all too well in my short life.

My mind can assimilate logic without emotion, it can recognize the trespass, the depth of the crime, the complexity. It fought for retribution. It insisted on picking a side, to not stand on the sidelines, to raise a flag that represented justice and to charge into battle loud and undeterred.

My heart is another matter entirely. It sees the need for the gray area. It feels a deep tear for holding love for both the accused and the mistreated. It experienced the whole painted picture of the accused. It knows every heart wrenching detail and cries for mercy through understanding. It claims injustice in justice.

Can there ever truly be understanding for wrongdoing?

If a child is beaten brutally throughout their childhood and grows to be an abuser, is it their fault or the fault of another?

One could argue it is a choice made once grown to be vicious, while another argue it is learned behavior. Which one is right? The answer is both. We act upon what we know and we know what we see. We also have a choice and we often choose wrong, which leaves need for rehabilitation.

This world is in desperate need of advocates. I will be one. I will call to the masses. I will encourage them, connect with them, cry for them, laugh with them and teach them all that I know.

I know heartache, I know abuse, I know choice and I know conflicted turmoil.

I have broken laws, paid for sins and crimes, felt anger for injustice, felt sorrow, forgiveness and growth.

My words will not run dry until I draw my last breath in this world. I may never speak to the world. I may never lead the masses. Though I aspire to and as long as I aspire to, I will ponder my words. I will speak and to those willing to listen, my words will matter.

This is not a post of encouragement, it is not a beautiful post. My words do not rhyme nor do they hold a cadence. You are reading into my soul. The darkness that I fight daily. The turmoil that finds its way into the heart and mind of the positive. No my friends, you are reading my life, in unabashed veracity.

Life is poetic.

While this post is dreary and filled with heartache, it is often heartache that is the most impactive poetry. Is its lack of conformity to traditional poetic writing a lack of poetry? Or is a unique honest portrayal of heartache, what true poetry is?

I am drowning in the complexity of life. I need to unburden my heart and mind. I need the ear of a stranger. I need my words to drift into the abyss of technology, to waft away into silence, aiding in my ability to push past a heavy burden I must survive in my own life. There is no validity of my own actions that can be bestowed upon me by another. I acted upon my desire to protect someone. A choice whether right or wrong, I would make again. The turmoil I face within myself is mine and mine alone to do battle with. Only oneself can make peace within. My only comfort and an enlightening knowledge, inner peace is not linked to any constraint of time.