That repeated dream.
In slow motion,
The cart starts to lose control
Wheels start to fly off the tracks,
The ground once nearby,
Now I’m touching the great blue sky.
Screams of poor children,
Men and women, old and young
I look out the window,
Wrong move.
My body defies gravity,
Back pressed up against the roof of the cart,
I close my eyes
And await my demise.
I am shaken awake
Relief fills my very pores
Maybe it was just an illusion
Reality hits me
Hard as a martial artist,
As I stare into the eyes
Of a life savior wearing a white coat as a disguise.
Why am I the survivor?
Why did God choose me
Over all those other people that still had
The rest of their lives to live?
Why not them being the survivors?
When they can achieve so much more
Than me.
Why am I the survivor?
So many things
They could have done
Only if
They had the chance.
So I now stand here,
Under the gaze of God,
At your footstep,
So I can look you in the eye,
And believe
You have the answers
I wish to receive.
They never come.
My answers.
I plead harder and harder.
I fall on my knees in tears
Begging.
Those around me start to nervous
They stare.
But I don’t care.
Dragging my feet,
I slowly get up.
Surrendered and utterly lost
I turn my back on him
Dragging my feet
Out the home of God
Almost to the street.
Then I hear it.
The voices of the long gone.
Women, children, men
Aunts, uncles
Grandmas, grandpas
Now I understand.
The opportunity wasn’t ever mine
It was ours
To inspire.
To bring hope.
Now I know
I mustn’t live for myself.
I must live for those
Who couldn’t.
I am the Survivor.