Heavy
Borrowed poem and personal thoughts.......on war.
Making Peace
A voice from the dark called out,
‘The poets must give us
imagination of peace, to oust the intense, familiar
imagination of disaster. Peace, not only
the absence of war.’
To talk about war when you have never experienced it, almost feels wrong. Having only seen it on a 6.5 inches device, sitting on a sofa watching it on TV and touching the surfaces of tabloids to try feeling its weight, is nothing closer to what is truly experienced. There’s fear of saying something that might intensify the hurt, of your words not fully expressing the cruelty of the oppressors, of your words not honouring the courage of both the dead and the survivors.
I kept seeing this cute face of a little baby from one of the videos, through the day and even in my sleep. It was a baby girl, could have been less than a year old, held by a nurse. The nurse cooling her with a gentle towel rub on her face and looking at her little arm bearing marks of fresh blood. The clip ended with the baby closing her eyes, I’m not sure if that meant death or if she survived.
In my dream I was holding the baby, eyes shut, burning fever, and I was running to save that baby’s life. It was a run filled with panic, and how movement in dreams feels so slow and heavy, it felt like running forever. The dream ended when I handed the baby to a nurse. When I got up, there was relief to realize it was only a dream and at the same time deep sadness that it was someone else’s reality. For them it’s not a nightmare to simply sigh over and go back to sleep, it’s broad-light terror. Not a post to simply swipe through, it’s there feet touching the land that is groaning with pain.
Guilt is an emotion I have felt most often through this, even though I know I shouldn’t. Taking a shower and remembering someone else’s suffering from a blockade of water. Plugging in some earphones to listen to music with the thought of someone else covering their ears because of the bombings, loud and deadly. Climbing onto bed while someone else is running away from theirs. All these feel unfair, guilt gnawing on me with each action performed in freedom.
So have it etched in your memory, because there’s no muffling of their cry, their voices, their dreams.
“It isn’t just a trend” someone said. Your concern should go far beyond even after this ends. So have it etched in your memory, because there’s no muffling of their cry, their voices, their dreams.