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On Free Will and Compassion Within A Defined System

A while back,
I started to question agency and free will.
It was born from trauma and pain,
And the question—
Why?

Why do we hurt each other?
Why are some more broken than others?
Why would someone who has free will
Choose to hurt others?

I started to wonder—
What makes us who we are?
Is it more than what behavioral science has offered?
If so many things out of our control
Shape who we are, what we like, what we believe—
Do we really make meaningful decisions?

Is it even possible
To have free will and agency?

If God is real,
And He assigns us our lives—
Would anyone want to be a bad person,
Or to be hurt?
Would a being with free will and agency
Choose a life without love or happiness?

I don’t think so.

But it’s not black and white.
And the universe can contradict.
I see it as both—
That we have free will and agency,
And yet we are formed
By things largely out of our control.

We are like a roleplaying game
With premade characters.
We exist in a defined system and character—
But what we do with that character is up to us.
And we have the ability to learn,
To grow,
To change.

This belief does not enslave me.
It frees me.
I am who I am,
And I can change—
But I have to be given the opportunity.
The tools must be accessible.

I have found greater compassion and empathy
In this belief.
Deserve isn’t what matters.
What matters
Is that all are given the opportunity to change.

It doesn’t make life lose meaning.
It allows us
To make our own meaning.
It doesn’t absolve or rid us
Of personal responsibility.
It allows us
To make meaningful change
Within the system.

And for those who are unable to change—
Because of issues within themselves
They did not ask for—
We can have empathy
And compassion for them,
While still protecting ourselves
And each other.

We were all created—
Whether by God or science—
Within the same system.
And so,
We can choose to understand each other,
And offer love
Where we can.
Love and harm are born from the same place.
They are part of who we are.
But within the system,
We all have the ability to change.
With opportunity and the right tools,
We decide who we become.

I once was free,
But it took hold of me—
The rage of generations,
Uncaged by all of my frustrations.

Like a still mountain—
Frozen, fragile, and waiting to give.
A slight and it all came crumbling down—
Crushing, crashing, destroying only itself.

The face forever changed—
Bruised, beaten, and scarred.
A new scape—
Built upon a brittle ego-system.

Loud was the giving—
That was heard by no one living.
Just vibration—
In that still mountain air.

Author’s Note:
Sometimes people ask me to write more positively or to read more of my positive poems. It’s okay to want more positive things in your life, but my poems are my space to write authentically about my life.

You may find space in my poems for yourself too, but it’s not my goal to write what makes others comfortable. I write for myself and to spread awareness—and to show others like me that they’re not alone.

I’ve been asked to write more positively—
I’ve been told you prefer my positive poems.
I can’t promise you positive poems—
It’s not who I am.

I found poetry,
And it changed my life.
I found things I had lost or maybe had never known at all—
Pride, accomplishment, want,
self-love, self-care, self-worth—
I found myself,
And I’ve been missing for a long time.

It would be disingenuous to write what I am not.
Poetry gives me an outlet to express the pain I’ve experienced in life—
Whether through anecdotes or metaphors—
And I think I might actually be pretty good at it.

I don’t owe comfort.
My life—isn’t comfortable.

I can’t promise you positive,
And maybe, I’d ask you—what is positive to you?
My truth—is positive, to me.

I can’t promise you your definition of positive—
I can promise you—
My truth and authenticity.

I’ve been told my strength is in my honesty,
But honestly,
What would you like me to say?
What mask is better fit?
What act should I perform?

Author’s Note:
This was the first poem I ever wrote. I was on a walk with my dog and passed a church along the way. I started thinking about how nice it must be to be part of a community like that—and maybe even to have faith, to trust that something is looking out for you. I wondered what I would say if I prayed to God, and all I could think of was how angry I’d be with them—and what they’d done.

I’m angry at the way you left us
to suffer
at the hands of one another.
 
We’re subjected
to the whims
and the mercy
of each other.
 
You say it’s all a lesson—
But I see no teacher here,
just your children,
in the dark,
living in fear.

Author’s Note:
This is one of my earliest poems. I wrote it after receiving a poem prompt to write something to my future self. I wanted to be kind, offer encouragement, and understanding.

I felt this was a good poem to introduce myself, as it talks a bit about my poetry journey and demonstrates my values on empathy and compassion.

Hi The Character We Are.
It’s me—you.
I thought I’d write a letter to ask:
How do you do?

I started writing poetry.
You probably already knew that.
But I’ll tell you about the poet in me anyway,
So you’ll see where I’m at.

It’s helped me come back from my most recent withdrawal,
And I find myself feeling connected to the world—
In ways I hadn’t felt at all.

The people I’ve met,
Although they don’t know me well yet,
Have been welcoming, kind, and encouraging.
It’s made me feel like the sun of my life hasn’t quite set.

I wonder,
Do you still write?
I hope that you do.
If not, that’s alright.

If the darkness took hold again,
I know you’ll have put up a fight.
Remember that there’s always tomorrow—
Even when it’s not in sight.

Be kind to yourself.
And please,
Me too.
I know that’s not easy,
But remember—
It helps if you do.