Do you ever feel like there are two contrasting emotions clawing at your neck, fighting to get out?
Have you ever felt guilt when you laughed out loud, basked as the sun sprayed you with tiny gold freckles of rays; or ever so sad you wanted to cry but feared the tears would never stop flowing if you dared to let them out?
Music has become a solace for many these past weeks. Fear a trailing shadow whenever the news comes on. The tabloids hold no joy for the weary heart, no herald signaling freedom from pain. And with hushed tones the people on the streets have regaled us with tales of woe.
Death has come to vacation amongst us and he has brought his friends along.
They have come in robes of red and gold. Deceit billows with each twirl and envy does a neat pirouette to wow the crowd. Greed is a master of the tap dance– One. Two. Three– the longer you look the less you see. But the belle of the ball, Power, moves like none other. She’s been gifted with eternal youth, luring men and beast alike with her sultry sway. They are our gods of destruction, playing the dirge as the Reaper takes his soul.
Do you ever wonder what you have done to be lucky enough to have life? Granted the privilege to turn your eyes away from the sight of bodies, slaughtered by spraying bullets and the cold glint of a knife on your screen; or your ears from the cries of displaced families, children all victims of this mindless war?
When Christ said, my peace I leave with you, what did he mean?
Empathy with no lasting solution. A general disconnect from the sufferings around. A never ending belief that someday in no distant future everything will be alright. Or Hope—whatever that means to us.
Or is it death. Our final resting place. An end to grief, fear, uncertainty, and a mushroom cloud denting the serenity of the skies. Succor for weary souls—a displaced child, grieving mother, and the man whose life is in the grips of a deadly ailment.
Are there any explanations for why the world is in chaos? A conspiracy theory perhaps or maybe a fairytale, for even children need that to understand why mother hides her tears behind faded wrappers, and father sprouts fresh hairs of grey.
Any explanation other than that man has gone far up the evolutionary ladder and the only place left to go is down.