How Do We Change?
Have Forgiveness For The Brokenness
Every criminal, addict, alcoholic, murderer, rapist, pedophile, racist, terrorist, politician, poor, rich and famous were once an irresistible innocent infant. Moulded into perfection, demanding love, nurturing, guidance and protection. The worst of us aren’t born cold-hearted and corrupted, we’re abused, mistreated, exploited and created. Look beyond the eyes when the heart stands, and have compassion, empathy and forgiveness for the brokenness that divides and unites us. We are responsible for the destruction of our own making. How do we change? How do we forgive? When the madness that perpetually haunts us is perpetrated by us.
~ H a y t h a m T r u e h e a r t
About the Creator
Haytham Trueheart
Melanesian Anglo-Celtic Aussie POET (Masig + Kiwai) On Vocal Media I write about mental health, trauma, poverty, suicide, struggle street, authenticity and healing.
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More stories from Haytham Trueheart and writers in Poets and other communities.
Because My Father Said No
The miles ahead I’ve gone, quite far to turn around. I take no moment to be one of regret. Forward I face to the mountains of miles to trek from the baby of my years. 19 years alone, surrounded by ghosts, empty shells, each neglected in their homes returning their misery unto me, my family are distinguished hope.
By Haytham Trueheartabout a month ago in Poets
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis6 days ago in Humans
Comments (1)
True - the old saying about walking in the other person’s shoes. Some people have more empathy than others. Choice can make or break you.