Show People That You Care About Them

It happened right there on this road, on the exact spot where the bracelet is. A young person tried to throw herself into traffic. When I pushed her back on the side of the road, I fell onto the highway. I’ll never forget how close a bright blue, Dodge Ram truck came to my head before it swerved out of the way.

I kept her away from the highway until the police arrived. In the few minutes that it took for the police to arrive, she screamed at me, over and over again, “You don‘t give a fuck about me! Why didn’t you just let me die!” The police took her to the adolescent psychiatric hospital to be evaluated and treated, not punished.

A little over a week later she was discharged out of the hospital and back to our emergency shelter. When she handed me the bracelet, she said, “Mr. Tony, I made this for you in the hospital. Thank you. I love you. I don’t remember everything from that moment on the highway, but I remember what I screamed at you. What I meant to say is that I couldn’t believe someone actually gave a fuck about me.”

I wear the bracelet quite often as a reminder that there are many hurting people in the world who think no one cares about them. My life’s calling is to prove them wrong.

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The Voice of What You Are

The ego only knows how to attack or defend. It wants allies to join in attacks and defense, but it doesn’t want brothers and sisters. It doesnt want brothers and sisters to unite in Truth – in Love.

There’s another Voice within us – the Voice of God that’s always available because It’s what we are. Its Holiness always remebers and reminds ourselves and others that we are all sacred blessings, miracles, and gifts.

We have a choice in which voice we listen to. And the voice we’ve chosen to listen to is evident in what we share – what we teach. And what we teach is what we are choosing to learn.

Take the sacred, seventeen inch walk from your head back to your heart to teach and learn with God in the great, holy love that you are, always have been, and will always be.

~ Walk in Beauty,

Anthony Goulet 

i am Only a secretary

Some people say I am a writer
Others say I am a poet
Still, others say I am a counselor
No!
i am  nothing without Him
Him Who sent me
Him Who created me
Him Whose power 
keeps my heart beating,
my breath flowing,
He keeps me alive and sustains me
i am God’s child
Listening to His Majesty’s Holy dictates
writing, saying, and doing
what God says
i am only a secretary

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A Survivor’s Scream

Do you really understand?
You say you do,
but I can see in your eyes
that you cannot read
between the lines,
so if you really understood,
I wouldn’t have to spell it out

Besides, when I stood
before you as a youth
telling you my truth,
you rejected me

Where I’ve been,
what I’ve experienced –
the sights, sounds, smells,
pain, brokenness –
the colors of the institutions
isn’t something you understand

You think words like
fuck and shit are offensive
So when I enter a room
and instantly connect
with those you can’t
I see the condemnation in your eyes
the same looks
those like you
gave me when I was a youth –
daggers of self-righteous condemnation
emitting moral vomit,
puking your credentials, expertise,
and religious verses on us survivors
that we’ve heard so many times before,
but you’re not even strong enough
to listen to the truth we’ve lived
because that would interrupt
the delicate images in your mind
of how we’re supposed to be,
and cause you to miss our beauty –
the truth of our perfection
forged in fires of hell

We talk because we need to
not because we think you understand,
not because we think you’re listening
because you’re too busy
trying to protect yourself
from the realities
of a survivor’s scream –
a scream you cannot recognize
when you hear it,
and so you’re also blind
to
those
Sacred
moments
when
healing
is
happening

Looking Back Upon Forevers

Looking back
upon forever
He really thought
It would be forever
every time

Looking forward
upon forever
He still thinks
It will be forever
every time

Being here, right now
He’s enjoying
the part of forever
he’s in
In this time
this moment
this breath 

We’re all time travelers
caught in the forevers
when it hurt the most
and felt the best
Carrying our forevers
Together 

They Made Me This Way

Sharing like it was a dream
When I share it, I awaken
memories that others live with,
haunting them of what was done to me

Many excuses to justify what they knew
Many substances to numb what they didn’t
Many expiration dates way past due
It was a void, a dream, a past

The pillow I used as a child
is full 
of used up tears,
angry screams asking “Why?!”
And angry prayers asking “When?!”

Each memory I still feel
Each memory I still forget
Each memory unlocks more clues
Each memory is the same

I was more present than all of them
I was new
I was trusting
I was only a child

Walking in the morning as an adult,
wandering into the horizon
with no thoughts –
no destination

I was looking for me
For that little boy from many years ago
I wanted to let him know
that we’re going to be okay

If they didn’t make us this way
we may not have saw
there is another 
way – a different path
Extremes make visibility clearer

The pain wants to create clones
More generations of pain makers
More cycles of dream takers
That crossroad came and we walked

The path towards the abyss was tempting
It was where everyone else was facing
It was normal
It was home

We walked away from the zombies,
the substances, the destruction,
and walked back to our heart

Little boy from years ago,
know that we will be different
We will live with honor
We will live with truth

What made them that way?
Little boy, now a man,
together we still don’t understand

A way they made us,
not by walking it,
by not walking it,
by not talking about it,
the way was revealed

They are our precious teachers
for they show us how not to be
and taught us everything we’re not
They made us this way

A way, a path, a direction to take
leading us closer to our hearts –
how the Creator intended us to be

All those labeled as heroes or villains
when asked how they got there
have the same answer
in the form of a question –
How else would you have turned out if you were me?

Don’t Fight the Wind

My dad would say, “Don’t fight the wind, son,” whenever he saw war brewing in my eyes

Wars fought long ago
that woke me up
crying, punching, kicking,
screaming,
reaching for a horizon
Walking in a daze
to somewhere
that was nowhere
A place I couldn’t reach
because I was trying,
desperately trying to find
the twelve year old me
to let him know
we’re going to make it
beyond that moment
and something miraculous
will manifest from it all

Time won’t tell us
anything more
than we tell time
to disclose
Yet, when that moment
arrives, it arises and raises
a sun that beams
upon all survivors
melting the tears
to rainbows that arch
from our heads
back to our hearts
Under which we find
the solace of the miracle
that the wounded child
within us has longed for

It is there, here, now
in a holy instant
we no longer
fight the wind,
but allow it to carry
the unnecessary away
and breathe us
back to life
with
Its
songs
of
healing