A Rant For the Unregenerate

A RANT FOR THE UNREGENERATE

Albert Huffstickler


Maybe there's a kind of glory
in being damaged. Well, not in
being damaged but in keeping on,
knowing you don't know the rules,
don't know what to say half the
time, don't know how to act and
still going on with it, forging
rules where rules didn't exist,
faking it, ignoring the sleepless
nights when you go over and over
again the mistakes you made, the
shame of your ineptitude, the
damage to the heart because you
just can't get it right, just
can't seem to put on the right
face. Maybe somewhere where the
score is kept, you get marks for
facing the adversity, for stumbling
on when the path is lost and you
don't have a clue as to the next
step and know that the damage
is never going to change, you're
not going to get better, you're
just going to keep blundering on
never knowing enough but knowing
enough to know that you're not
doing it right and never will.
Yes, maybe somewhere that counts,
someone knows that you've given
it all you've got and nothing
more can be asked. Maybe...
Maybe when the final count is
made, you'll be awarded a crown,
slightly bent, falling down over
your face, not gold or brass
even, some synthetic or tin or
God knows what but a sign that
someone knows and someone cares
for all those hours of anguish
and sorrow and frustration,
knows that you did all you could
with what you had-which wasn't
much. Yes, maybe somewhere
you'll be welcomed when it's over
and greeted, if not as a hero,
then as someone who did what
he could and kept on, someone
who, hardly knowing what it was,
managed to keep his humanity,
his humanness. And maybe then
you'll know that out of all this
wreckage something grew that
was shining, shining with a
subtle, slightly twisted glory,
shining with a light that can
only be seen by those who know
what it means to go on when
there's no hope left and keep
going anyway. Yes, maybe there's
a place like that. Something
in my bones tells me there is
and tells me that there is a
special kind of glory in being
damaged beyond repair and knowing
and going on till the damage
itself is transmuted into a
holiness not of this world or
any other but holy just the same.


Posted over on Nerve Cowboy