Committed To Life

(In memory of a beloved friend. Rest in peace, brave soul.)

A/N: Italicised speech by Assatta Shakur. Taken from the song, Committed To Life by Asian Dub Foundation.

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I'll be honest with you.
I hate war—in all its forms: Physical, Psychological, Spiritual, Emotional, Environmental...
I hate war.

His presence, like rays of light piercing through the gaps of my darkened cell, shining as bright as youth behind soulful eyes.

And I hate having to struggle.
I honestly do because I wish I had been born into a world where it was unnecessary.

I wish I could describe this feeling surging through my veins. I have longed for it to happen that when it finally did, I could no longer respond to it. I've become numb. Still he stands before me, staring sadly at the old mutant he hardly recognises.

He sees the smile that I've failed to suppress.

He remembers now. He remembers me.

This context of struggle and being a warrior and being a struggler has been forced on me by oppression.
Otherwise I would be a sculptor, or a gardener, a carpenter—you know, I would be free to be...so much more.

A brother. A long lost friend. He comes closer to take hold of the blistered hand of my remaining arm, his fingers gripping tightly around it. I find myself holding on to him as we sink deeper into mutual sadness with memories of emptiness, of broken dreams. Places where I've waited and hoped for him to come back to.

I guess part of me, or a part of who I am, a part of what I do, is being a warrior—a reluctant warrior, a reluctant struggler. But I do it because, I'm committed to life...

His absence got me thinking that freedom is not a right—but an unachievable luxury. I am angry. Angry because he has fooled me to believe that there is still hope. Long after my brothers and father had all fallen apart. Long after I was left standing to face the ugliness of reality alone. Long after our candles flickered out.

I had gone through this without him. Suffered without him. Struggled without him.

I have always been—without him.

How long could I let this anger live?

It isn't his fault.

It's nobody's fault.

We can't avoid it. We can't run away from it because to do that is to be cowardice; to do that is to be subservient—to devils; to evil—and so that the only way to live on this planet with any human dignity at the moment is, to struggle.

So I let him take me to where he knows there is hope. And for that moment, I feel like I am free. Completely driven to take that chance, for as long as it lasts.