What if we had a war, and we tore into each other for a season, only to find at the then we were more real and had a more concrete existence then we had before? What if battle had this unexpected outcome: that our masks were destroyed in the collateral damage, and we were left securely naked and approachable to each other?

What if we had a fight like cats and dogs and ripped and tore the false flesh from our bones, exposing the beautiful mess underneath, bleeding and honest?

For most, the alternative is best: a comfortable peace, an armistice born of cowardice and fear of seeing one another’s faults and failures. Most rest in this uneasy peace while our loved ones disappear and fade before out eyes, until the one we attempt to embrace is a vapor and a mist.

But what if we had a war?


Then we’d learn who we really are, our best moves and secret silences. Our sneak attacks and vicious faces, unable to conceal the raw anger and flesh that accompanies humanity.

What if we had a war?

Then at the end we’d fall exhausted to the floor and hold each other in the middle of this life alone.

Gods and generals would govern our drilling, marching us on into a field of friendly fire.

What if we had a war?

Then we’d enrich the pockets of our hearts.


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