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It's A Tight Squeeze

It's a tight squeeze to get there from here.

It's like trying to slip through a crack between two buildings.

You can barely make out a vertical sliver of light at the other side.

You have to turn sideways and wiggle and slide your way through.

There is fear.

What if you get stuck and nobody finds you for days?

What if there is an earthquake and the buildings begin to shift?

What if that vertical sliver of light, at the other side, isn't light at all?

It's a tight squeeze and there is no guarantee that you'll ever make it.

That's how it is when you're trying to get to the light.

That's what's required.

You have to make that journey alone, through that narrow space.

You have to wiggle and slide through, without a guarantee of success.

Along the way, each brick and crack stares at you with incredulity.

Each brick and crack whispers it's reason why you should turn back.

"This is a fools game" "There is no light at the other side" "Stop now"

"Look at the blood on these walls" "Hear the screams embedded in the cracks"

"There is no light"

As you push on, you see that each brick is a testament.

You see that each brick bears witness to the folly, ignorance, and cruelty of man.

Each brick speaks of some act of violence or corruption.

Each brick speaks of some terrible act, perpetrated on someone by someone else.

Each brick speaks of some terrible crime, committed in the name of something.

Some give religious reasons.

Others give political ones.

And then there's revenge, and jealousy, and even, security.

And there's money, and land, and power, and, of course, hate.

In the cracks, you begin to notice shadows.

Shadows that house the screams that are embedded in the cracks.

When you look closer, you realize that the shadows are really ghosts.

Ghosts of those who have gone before you.

Ghosts of others who have tried to make it to the light on the other side.

Others who found themselves stuck at some point between the walls.

Stuck in the cracks of some place that they couldn't get passed.

Someplace with a strong argument against the existence of the light.

An argument too strong for them to resist.

Perhaps it was an argument in favor of some form of religious bigotry.

Maybe it was an argument in favor of getting revenge for some terrible act.

Or one in favor of going for the easy money instead of the light.

Maybe it was an argument in favor of a violent political act.

Or an argument in favor of some personal passion play.

Maybe it was one in favor of a moral compromise in the interest of self-defense.

Or an argument in favor some form of racial, or other, superiority.

So many bricks, and so many cracks, and so many arguments for stopping.

So many places to settle into the shadows and silently scream.

So many places to get stuck in doubt and distraction.

So many ways to become a brick instead of the light.

So many convincing arguments against the existence of the light.

And so many arguments against the love it contains.

It's a tight squeeze to get there from here.

It's like trying to squeeze through a crack between two buildings.

You can barely make out a vertical sliver of light at the other side.

You have to turn sideways and wiggle and slide your way through.

And there is fear.

Authors Bio:

Jim Bush is a 67 year old, Vietnam-era veteran, currently living in Texas. He was raised in a military family. His father received the Silver Star for directing troops while under air attack at Clark Field in the Phillipines, survived the Bataan Death March, and spent three and a half years in a Japanese POW camp. He also received the Purple Heart for wounds received while a  POW. Jim served as an army photographer in Okinawa and Korea. In 1987 he traveled to the war zones of Nicaragua with a veteran's group dedicated to stopping the Contra War.