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.