Whole Bodies. Halved Souls.

Um Pensamento em Andamento

How plagued we are by this broken duality.

Whole bodies, halved souls,

Wholly present but mentally absent.

Physically whole but spiritually halved.

Bodies made whole by parents

And later halved by parental separation.

Children wholly raised into adulthood

Only to be halved by an absent mother.

Wholly admonished by a parent,

Yet halved by a dead father.

A woman wholly married to the man of her dreams,

And halved by a man who beats her half to death.

A man wholly married to the woman of his dreams,

And halved by an addiction to pornography.

A mother wholly comforted by the babe at her bosom,

And halved by a babe who stops breathing in the middle of the night.

Wholly pregnant and halved by a stillbirth.

A father wholly ecstatic to welcome his daughter into the world,

Enamored by the giggles of a young lady,

In awe of her intellectual development,

Proud to walk her down the aisle of holy matrimony,

Ebullient with the presence of a first grandchild,

Halved by a daughter whose post-partum depression

And ensuing suicide left behind an unimaginable chasm in his heart.

Wholly excited parents who are halved

By the sight of having to bury their children.

Are not the old whole when they die

But halved when they bury their young?

An aspiring intellectual esteemed above her intelligentsia,

A distinguished professor within her field of expertise,

Wholly reputed, wholly respected, wholly competent,

Halved by a history of abuse.

Halved by a man from the past,

By unwanted touching, words unwarranted,

By unruly shouting and nefarious whisperings.

Halved by undeserved trauma.

A professional athlete wholly adorned with praise,

Crowned with wreaths of glory,

Golden medals weigh heavy on his shoulders,

As does the racism he endures away from the limelight.

He is halved by prejudice and hate.

Halved by harmful social theories about his pigmentation.

Halved by scientific racism, by a history of generational trauma,

Generational shame, generational poverty, generational lack of education.

Halved by police brutality and suspicious looks from unneighborly neighbors.

Halved by a history of lynchings, bombings, and clubbings,

Halved by assassinated heroes.

Halved by his complexion.

A minister wholly respected by his faith community,

Revered by his colleagues, cited by reputable hermeneuticians,

Elevated to the seat of power and authority,

Yet halved by a despised wife whose life was put on hold.

Halved by a marriage that stands on shattered glass.

Halved by a home with a foundation made of sticks,

Its framework oozes gasoline while its roof drips shame.

The minister is the spark, in his home and marriage,

Every time he leaves or arrives a fire is due to start.

A complete teacher, orator, and pastor,

Halved by the ministry.

The stories are many, the stories are one.

The pleasures of joy and completeness,

Are halved by the pains of sorrow, loss, and death.

How plagued we are by this broken duality.

Whole bodies, halved souls,

Wholly present but mentally absent.

Physically whole but spiritually halved.

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