Writings

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  • As the "news" rolls by..

    Every day - 
    day 
    after
    day
    after - 
    like the worst ticker tape parade
    you can imagine - 
    the headlines roll by
    the massacres
    the injustices
    the childbrides
    the sextrafficking

    Then like a paint bomb
    the latest ridiculous
    outrage
    of some minor 
    celebrity
    washes up over the screen
    obliterating 
    that which we would prefer
    not 
    to have seen
    anyway.

    I've felt it myself
    "fatigue", they call it -
    Tired of hearing about war,
    we are tired
    of all the bad news 
    from abroad;
    we change
    our channels
    dull our minds as we sit in flannels
    sipping hot chocolate
    and eating ice-cream.
    But what about the people on the 
    other side of 
    that screen
    the ones 
    wearing fatigues
    the ones whose bakeries are destroyed
    under the theory that bread is life
     -  if you destroy their access to
    bread
    you destroy their life

    I don't know what
    I can do about all this
    what can we do about all this
    is life really all about this
    how do we allow this?

    Sometimes at night I dream
    I am running, screaming
    hiding
    I wake,wonder if I'm bleeding
    from the bombs others are feeling
    is someone reaching out to me
    from their dreams?

    Halfway across the world
    yes, believe it or not it's the same world
    even as I sit here listening to Ella Fitzgerald,
    "they can't take that away from me"
    right now
    A could-have-been me is losing, has lost
    everything.

    Even here in my own town
    Freedoms I squander for granted
    are supplanted by our very own human traffickers
    out of sight
    under our noses
    rarely are we supposing
    it could happen *here*
    but  -  it does.
    Amanda, Gina and Michelle
    what kind of hell have you been 
    through
    just a few miles away from 
    where I live?
    All too easy it is not to "see"
    all too easy to walk down the street
    ignoring the signs nipping at our feet
    like mongrels hoping for scraps of our 
    attention.
    My intention is to be different.

    What is yours?