Sunday, November 18, 2012
:: bed room bunting :: october cranes :: behind the flowers :: dream on, my boy ::
if we could only choose our own dreams and make them come true...
i wish not to be a part of this reality, but i am. not up close with the sounds of air strike alarms in my ears, like those down south, on both sides.
two sides, two so different narratives, only further divided now by fear. a fear of losing. lives, love and future.
when people fear they start to hate.
i cannot stand my facebook feed these days. so full of righteous people. those sitting far away making it sound so simple, black and white. and those sitting here being so caught up in the emotions sharing all those historical quotes, the same "what else can we do" as if only "we" are the victims.
we heard it all four years ago when this middle eastern version of the groundhog day nightmare played out the last time.
when there are war and killings there are no good guys.
what will happen now? it seems like most people around here are too busy looking back: who attacked first? started this time? when did "this time" even start, or was it retaliation?
the who-done-it and i-was-here-first can be discussed thousands of years back and the will to go backwards leads the way.
looking forward? that's to complicated, too much compromise needed and acceptance required.
i hope we can still dream of something better to come.