from thefreeonline on 8 Apr 2024 by Lisa Fouweather at Portfolio of Hope
This could be me or you carrying our child’s remains in a body bag,
scrambling through piles of bricks and rubble
When I see photos of our world leaders,
Trump,
and Putin,
and Kim Jong Un,
I am filled with a sense of dread that I can’t quite explain.
Disdain
at how 1% of the population,
(not even that),
is in control of our collective fate…
Little boys who never grew up,
stamping on ants just to see the splat of blood
because it made them feel good
to make the helpless bleed,
to be in power,
when they had no power.
Little boys who never grew up in more than height:
still power-hungry,
still stamping on ants,
their boot soles covered in blood,
(human) souls taken from us.
When now they do have power,
when now we are the ants,
for which, they go out of their way to find the heaviest boot
(it doesn’t matter what colour, they’ll be painted red soon)…
Seeking out the biggest colony
for maximum impact,
just to see the splat of blood,
of mass obliteration,
driven by power-hungry desperation.
‘In control of our collective fate…’
(The more I think about it you know, the more I think, actually, I can explain that sense of dread that I, all too often, try to brush away-
‘I can’t quite explain it.’
*yawn*
let me explain it)…
Let me explain how it feels when the media tries to conceal what is happening in plain sight,
every.
single.
day.
(If you’re gonna be complicit in it, then at least use the right name)…
Let me explain how it feels to be sitting at home,
eyes glued to my phone
just waiting for an update.
The inevitable update;
‘Airstrike’,
again.
Thinking,
‘Will this ever end?’
When I’m 2000 miles away
and there’s nothing I can do,
feeling helpless,
hopeless,
when the breaking news is nothing new,
and with every day that comes, there comes the knowledge that, one day, this could be me or you…
This could be me or you carrying our child’s remains in a body bag,
scrambling through piles of bricks and rubble
desperately searching for our dad,
wishing that we hadn’t wished away
what were the best days we ever had
…
‘The best days we ever had’…
When freedom
is something that we actually had.
When humanity
wasn’t something that we had to beg for.
When the world
didn’t look away when we needed them the most.
When we didn’t have to stand in a graveyard,
laying our children to rest,
all the while our world leaders sat in a meeting room,
how cozy,
voting on who would be next,
making a toast.
‘To the mass destruction of the masses.’
Handing out free passes,
‘tick here to vote.’
‘Which monster
should be in power next?’
Decisions decisions.
*Sigh*
How hard it must be…
to lead a life with zero contrition.
The Free 