Is the hill you’re going to die on
going to express care toward the ones you say you love;
Is it going to disarm your enemy so that
you may finally welcome them into your home?

Or is it going to push opposition away
with judgment?
Is it going to alienate your own family or once-dear friends
into the realm of the ‘illogical,’
the nonsensical,
the unjustified?

This realm is not the realm of The Crazy…
It’s the realm of _{The Misunderstood.}

As you march upwards to fortify your camp upon your Death Hill,
As you bear your cross towards the crest of Golgotha,

Remember… you will be the one nailed to that cross—
not your perceived ‘Opposition.’

And once it is all said and done, once you have
no more air with which to scream curses & accusations,
once exsanguinate fingers can no longer point blame at another,
or type tweets, or repost childish facebook memes that the simple-minded parts of ourselves find vindicating for our cause,

Once you have run out of time to contribute to healing & reconciliation on this planet…

Was this a worthy hill to make your Forever Grave?

And when all you can see for miles & miles are
people on their hills
screaming at everyone else on seemingly different hills,
as though these hills are not conjoined with the same seamless dirt,
all part of the same Earth,

Will you join the cacophony of bullhorns & megaphones, trying to make your important message heard,
or will you lay out a welcome mat
and build a bridge between your hill
and someone else’s?

Or will you buckle at the very thought of threat?

^{‘Fear is a sickness
that devours the minds and hearts of men…
until they devour one another…
until he devours himself…
until there is nothing left.’}