tragic events always seem to bring out the comparisons how tough things were before or how good someone has it now but when it strikes a child we retreat from our usual self-pity dialogues and question life’s fairness we compare our childhood with the one this child will never have asking why what has this child done that all of heaven has forsaken them there’s never a suitable answer just the old god works in mysterious ways or it’s his will neither ever addresses the real question why a child and not those who brought about the child’s death
it went unnoticed but a sparrow died today didn’t make the news like the deaths of some children children worldwide of color isn’t it strange how valueless some lives are made
normally he would have ignored the bodies on the road from horseback one often sees such dried out forms along the border but these were smaller than usual emaciated hands and limbs of children grasping larger hands that were buried in the sand hands touching each other with such a sense of belief a belief wanting to deny that death could happen in this promised land of freedom
from franco
to
trump
the stench
of
death
cannot be hid
it
flows
from
history’s bins
of
oppression
and
from
unmarked graves
now
covered
with grassy lies
and
halfhearted
apologies
for
atrocities
committed
now
undeniable
yet
politicos
strive
once again
to
rewrite lines
of
truth
with lines
of
deceptions
and
subterfuge
saying
to move on
we
must
forget
what happened
to heal the nation
said
as they
brush off
dried blood
from
their sleeves
and
hands
the blood
of
complicity
he said death ain’t that bad but dying was quite complicated found myself and family in one of those no man lands between two nations we had left horror only to find that horror had followed our footsteps winter’s frigid hands took our first child while the second died of that new virus well that’s what we suspected since no one was testing nor for that matter considering us suppose it didn’t help that she hadn’t eaten much that last week my wife the elders said died of a broken heart such things are hard to prove but having such losses and being seen as subhuman may add some validity to their belief as for me i drowned crossing the border my body was swept out to sea no need for a burial in another unmarked grave so you see being dead ain’t all that bad but dying well that was complicated
don’t matter which good book you read quran bible or whatever spiritual star chart you follow the charge to all adults is to protect children from moral and physical harm don’t say nothing about only the white ones so i suspect brown black and all the colors in between are included yet everyday i read about how children are victimized in wars or how so-called civilized nations caged children like dogs along the border and at birth how children of color die more frequently than their white counterparts oh there’s far too many homeless and hungry children to count perhaps our leaders share the notion that children of color are just useless eaters as i recall that was the same dogma that the nazis subscribed to wonder where the new mass graves for children will be
after all the campaign promises are made and dollars have exchanged hands then we will bury the dead after they who have been vilified at walls for childish hopes of freedom then we will bury the dead after your sons and daughters are lost in wars that buy the gifts for the rich then we will bury the dead after earth expels a toxic breath burning the lungs of all saving none then we will bury the dead after you are homeless in your own land begging to protect your rights and family then we will bury the dead tho after nightmare awakenings you’ll see that one new grave is for you then we will bury the dead
Read Between the Minds 