The Power of One.

i read Kaffir Boy last summer, well i didn’t finish, it was too heartbreaking.

tonight, in an unusually quiet home, i stumbled upon The Power of One. 

illuminating Alexandria, Apartheid and the peculiar idiosyncrasies of an inhumane existence.

I blame my Dad for this compassion. 

Through unfortunate circumstances - i fortunately had the alignment with the man i would call Dad.  

Although he is not my blood, he gave me a piece of his soul. 

That compassion drives my stubbornness - the cause for my relentlessness to Live and fight for life.  

The whole of existence happens in One Soul.

and although things seem dire, 

I find myself feeling guilty every day for being healthy and my biological mother is bipolar schizophrenic, 

or that my biological father was so abused as a child he carried the trauma over unto my siblings.  

It gave me my Dad. 

the man who isn’t biologically mine, but gave me the best pieces of his soul,  

the best pieces of his insight in this world

for me to find what pieces i could and pass on the developing picture in this maze of a puzzle we exist in.

i blame my Dad for my heart. 

These stories of South Africa make me feel connected to who i am. 

i don’t see myself in the normal functioning of society as is. 

i see myself reflected in stories such as these. 

my dad and his darn stubborn heart. 

As much as I’d like to exist in this world, carefree, my soul keeps calling me to something more. And I’m finally feeling the surety of It with growing clarity.