A Minority of One

Hello Sweet Friend,

This week on Instagram I shared a spoken word piece I wrote called ‘A Minority of One’. It was born out of a tough week for me - wrestling with the heartache of war in the Middle East on the one hand, and my own personal petty discontents and very real griefs on the other. 

To my genuine surprise, there has since been a flood of requests for written copies of this piece. If it gives voice to similar feelings in your own heart, then it too is medicine - for medicine comes in many forms. 

A Minority Of One

I am one of the blessed.

One of the rest of the stressed & pressed of the well-fed West.

How can I feel oppressed?

To whom should I divest my soul’s unrest?

Against what should I protest?

All that’s left for me is to confess:

I am all that is spoiled and soiled in this modern world - for all my clean water still I thirst.

I have a famished soul, yet my belly’s fit to burst.

Monotony is my tyranny… even with Netflix and AC.

For a comfortable cage is still a cage to the part of us that yearns to be free.

How despicably ungrateful of me.

How can I complain?

How can I explain that I too am insane with hurt and grief and pain?

Who is left for me to blame?

Yet I bear the burden of Being too you see.

I too am nailed to the World-Tree.

My soul also feels like an amputee or deportee - a refugee from modernity.

My culture tells me that I have won,

Yet why does my heart still feel undone?

Why does my soul feel so whored and overrun?

Perhaps I am a minority of one?

Perhaps, so is everyone?

Is everyone a minority of one?

With Heart,
Jimi