Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Fight the Good Fight

I wrote this about 2 years ago. It's what I call "stream of consciousness" prose poetry. I write a lot of it and it just flows. It seemed a fitting thing to post today and here's why:

I had lunch at a large Mexican restaurant today with co-workers. When I went to the Ladies' Room, I decided to leave a note in one of the bathroom stalls that read, "Beauty is not a state of body. It's a state of mind. Love your body," with's web address at the bottom. I keep a little package of post-it notes in my handbag in case I am ever out somewhere I'd like to leave a positive note for someone else to find. There was a party of 60 (yes, 60) teenagers in the restaurant and as I was leaving the Ladies' Room a whole mob of teenage girls went in. I know one of them (or several of them) found my note and it made me happy. Everyone--eating disordered or not--needs a little positive reinforcement every now and then.

But anyway, here's Fight the Good Fight.

Fight the good fight, know the wrong right, fill the void and see the light. Here I go, again and new, fresh, awake, alive and true. Passing by the life I know and focusing on where to go, for I will follow where I’m neededpaths are taken, prayers are heeded. Brain’s mad switch is flicked off…on…I’m not here but I’m not gone... jittery and full of life, I need to live before I die. I need to find the reasons why and cry and sigh and say I tried. Dipped inside a vat of pain, I know I gain when I remain a seer of the songs of old and preacher of the words I hold. Along the sky I write my voice, in ink of breath…a thought, a choice. And still I’m’s sad end has seen me weep but still I bend. My words I send to you and yours, alone I smile as my heart soars. I know it pours. Water? Blood? My soul? My life? It pours, now cut through like a knife. And still I say, away away, fight the good fight, know the wrong right, fill the void and see the light. Flickers of the sky’s dark space—it really makes you know your place—and will erase the pain you felt when all those others cruelly dealt their blows to you and all your soul, just breaking you, and you were whole, but pieces looked about to fall and so we’ll catch them, one and all. The sky knows best, it does not rest, and I protest…never. Fight the good fight, know the wrong right, fill the void and see the light.

(c) Arielle Lee Becker 2005


I hope you are all having a good week (and if you're not, I hope it gets better), and don't forget about Tell Your Tale Tuesdays.


1 comment:

i.m.small said...


Youth when they fight, depend upon
Strength rooted in idealism,
As may, when comes the cataclysm
Disheveled fall, become undone.

Therefore we who no longer young
If making no pretensions of
A sure approach to wisdom--strong--
So we can fight for human love.

The heads of state all cynical
Have given over even love
To profit motives: we may prove
Them wrong, if never clinical

In vivisection of the thing:
This war is wrong, domestic spying,
This saber-rattling taunts to fling,
This demonizing, slander, lying:
The fight is ours, or come our dying.