short story

Brother?

Can you believe those words that fell from his mouth with such ease? He found the nerve to mention his leadership, his experience, his credentials, as though those things give him true power in a place that knows little about privilege. It was the position that got to his head. Made him think he had authority. What he really had was a satchel of insecurities heavy enough for its strap to tear into the ivory flesh of his shoulder blades. It's troubling to think of those who come to save and grimace with tremendous astonishment the very moment they are commanded to serve. 

It's always unfortunate when the comrade proves to be a cancer, eager to make swift decisions that play to his personal interests and desires more than those of the very people who open their arms and say, "Join us in this fight foreign brother. This isn't about you but it's about our children who may live to never know of the awful things your people have done." 

The Sheep Count Me...

The sun was up before I laid down. It was supposed to be a quick nap. Following an afternoon of heavy, sinful food and wine, a soft pillow seemed like the perfect place to chew on thoughts about what the evening might promise. The hours passed us by. The cell phone, face down on the nightstand, vibrated gently. Messages piled up. Posts and pictures accumulated in the far reaching arms of lives only known through the glow of a screen. This and that friend posing in aclub or on a beach in this or that city, country, village and town. None of it compared to the sight of the moon's kiss upon an arm sprawled across my chest, its owner inhaling and exhaling to the beat of silent drum. I was at peace.

Sometimes a weekend filled with stillness and silence is the most fun the soul can have.