Wake Up Call

April 4, 1998


Tomorrow we shall head for home where time seems suspended with or without. I have danced with happiness while holding the hand of popularity in my grasp, but a dance must come to an end. What was thought to be important became trivial after the need to worry was put to rest. My concentration is out of focus and although a pat on the back is well deserved, so is a slap in the face. Any news is bad news but even in this late hour I can’t help but assume that the outcome will be positive. Then again, there is an unnerving feeling that taunts me every time I let myself become vulnerable to the current situation. This is the third time I have come home to find an absence taken from myself. I am starting to notice a pattern of occurrences that have taken place in the last three years. There is a feeling of doubt that engulfs me. There is a feeling of doubt in the tendency of life and in the cycle of nature. My belief in the spirit is strong, the spirit of the land, the mind, the creator, but I cannot grasp the purpose of anything. I understand the balance but in the eyes of a skeptic it is difficult to accept. It is difficult to find peace among constant chaos.


Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist