What size is justice?

What size is justice?

Is it as big as the world?

Obviously not, going by stories we read every day.

Is it as big as a nation?

Major no’s there, right across the globe.

How about the size of a city?

Or a street?

Maybe a house?

Is it at least as big as a person?

The smallest child?

Asking to be heard, to give their version of events before we ground them?

Is it the size of seven letters? Just a word, with no meaning or depth?

Or is justice an ideal? The gigantic size of a dream that spreads and grows, takes wing and flies to where it is needed, becomes pillow soft, to rest a weary head upon?

I don’t know what size justice is.

Injustice, though, I saw and felt this morning in a post I read first thing. It stayed with me throughout the day. It coloured me orange and green.

There is a size equated to injustice in my mind right now.

66 inches of dinosaur in an orange dress and green cardi.

 

 

Plutocracy or Pissed At Politics….take your pick

This is my offering for mythological P today. I was going to do Prometheus. You know the guy. A big dude who stole fire from heaven and had his insides plucked out daily by the eagle for helping mankind. Definitely not a politician.

Then I did some more reading today. I know. It should be housework. But . Well, just but.

Speaking of butts…

I kept hearing the national anthem when I was writing this. Hum along now.

 

Mythological democracy

A legend once believed.

Plutocracy is now the way.

How ill, this child conceived.

OR

Dump democracy,

Plutocracy rules the way!

Every one of us

is now its slave.

 

Kinda catchy don’t you think?

Check out this for democracy that’s lost the way. And whatever you do, try to ignore the face. It induces vomit. Just sayin’. No need to make ourselves more sick than we have to.

http://johnnyvoid.wordpress.com/2014/04/16/dwp-block-report-to-cover-up-work-programme/

 

 

I Am. We All Are.

Your human rights are less important than mine.

You’re gay.

 

I had Pankhurst.

I had Mandela.

I had Gandhi

And King.

Every voice

In history

Who cried

For justice.

Equality.

 

Royalty now.

But back then,

Merely

Perceptive,

Provocative,

Proactive.

Reaction

Causing

Change.

 

So take the beatings

And the vitriol

While we watch

And say little.

Do nothing.

View the games

With blackened eyes

And bruises.

 

This your legacy.

This our pride.

To stay silent.

Shh!

While waiting

For a regal voice.

 

I am black.

I am woman.

I am all nations.

I am gay.

We all are.

Needed

In understanding others

There is a price to pay.

Sometimes, we just get it wrong,

Dismissed, go on our way.

 

It’s hurtful when that happens

And I’m sore so deep inside

That reaching out brought you no comfort.

You chose to hide and not confide.

 

I don’t need or want your secrets,

Your worries and your fears.

I don’t need other burdens.

I have enough to last for years.

 

I suppose I’m just this person

Who cannot see a need

Without reaching out to offer,

To try to help you feed.

 

A way of being, a pair of arms,

If you want, a listening ear.

But, mainly, offering love, support

While you cry internal tears.

 

I recognise this need in me.

It’s a need for feeling needed.

Ignoring doesn’t work at all.

I’ve tried, but it won’t be heeded.

 

Video reading Needed

The Prodigal Son/Daughter – Revisited

The Prodigal Son/Daughter  (11-10-07)

There was once a woman who was left to raise her children on her own. She worked hard to try to make sure that the absence of a father in their lives would not mean that they went without. She gave them guidance and love and watched over them as if with the careful eyes of two parents.

Her youngest child got into a bad crowd and started to drink although he was too young to do so. He came home frequently too drunk to speak, except words of hurt and violence. He missed school and government bodies started to look closely at the parenting skills of the mother. They recognized that she was doing her best as her elder child was not giving her the same worries. They offered support and intervention but nothing seemed to penetrate the sense of the younger child.

Things went from bad to worse. Exam results were no good, attendance at school was at an all-time low and the police had even come calling; threatening her child with an anti-social behaviour order.

The mother cried and pleaded and prayed. One night, while the son was out drinking with some friends, they got into a fight with another crowd and some people were badly hurt. The younger child was stabbed in the leg and found by the police and taken to hospital.

The mother was called and rushed to the hospital where she kept a vigil by her son’s side until he awoke.

When he did he looked at his mother’s face and into her eyes and wept for the hurt he had caused her and the life he was leading.

On his release from hospital he went home and began to change his ways. His mother rewarded him with a laptop which she paid for so that he could study more easily and have another interest.

The elder son was angry at this and said,

‘You’re always saying how hard it is to manage on what you’ve got coming in. I give you what I can but he’s never given you a penny. Now you’ve taken out credit to buy something for him he doesn’t deserve. How is that fair?’

His mother held his two hands between hers and said,

‘You’ve never given me a moment of unnecessary worry. Your character is strong and with purpose. Your brother lost the plot for a long time and I thought he would end up in prison or dead. He’s with us again as he used to be – stronger now for what he has experienced. You both have all my love always. But when one needs me more than another, at a given time, it is that one whose needs I best try to fulfill. It takes nothing away from you and gives him the chance of a new life. And us too. For what would our lives have been with the loss of a son and a brother?’

The elder son cried and held his mother to him , understanding better the meaning of love.