© John G Evans 2017

I am a created man with empty words spoken upon my dialect that spills the blood of warriors, martyrs, too within a biased land. I am the emptiness so deep and so truly damned. I am the illusive firing squad that bears no name. I am the hosting flame for salted flesh that melds a steely night of swollen blood, of swollen veins. I am the silence that penetrates the darkness. I am a loud noise for this world of regime. I am a cultivating shape of things to come. I am the indigenous in exile on my way to annihilation. I am the blood of the family of man. I am the vapors of death upon Golgotha as any other man. I am the accretion of silvery smoke of ’48 attempting to occupy your land, as well as your mind. I have become ethnically cleansed. I am biting this expended round regarding massacres never found. I am on a trail of rock and sand with family in hand. I am every man. I am within your heart for I have no where else to hide from this contempt of man. I am silence that speaks with the awe of thunder. I am the child that walks aside his mother. I am woman. I am man. I am cautious of regimes and political, or military establishments. I am a world of refugees. I am patriotic with no sense of home. I am the wandering traveler. I am the Bedouin who has no camels. I am, for the sake of man, Savior.

From my second book of poetry entitled, I AM: The Tiny Mustard Seed, Create-space, Lexington. 2017. Print.

Having felt all too often overwhelmed by excessive worry, depression, anxiety, hyper-vigilance, and paranoia left me in a world of many wounds. I survived, but I had to have help. Struck down by the ruminating thought congestion of suicidal ideation I feared for my life from my own hand. A therapeutic environment was extremely helpful. Doctors were extremely helpful always providing support. If you feel you need support call the Suicide Prevention Line at 1-800-273-8255.

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