Today is BlogBlast for Peace. I won’t say I really know what this means, other than it lends itself to being a helpful writing prompt. I’m gonna go with it and see where it takes me.
It started with Shock and Awe. From the moment the 24-hour news channels created animated graphics festooned with jets and fireballs I felt in my heart that something just wasn’t right. No one was going with us. Bad intelligence they would later say. Whether bad or simly lacking, we still look foolish.
The right questions weren’t being asked. Our young babies, our highly-trained killing machines—those sweet boys and girls who simply wanted to get their GI Bill, leave college without a debt, change their life paths—were sent in to do what they were told. They were lied to, but they did it any way. It was their duty.Many of them walk with a constant rage now. They walk on robotic limbs now. Their speech is slurred from the cacophonous waves that sent their brains rattling in their skulls.
We know the cost. We count the fallen angels. The number of broken ones is kept silent. We hate this war. But most of us are silent. There are no demonstrations. No widespread acts of civil disobedience. Oil creeps to $100 a barrel. More people bemoan the potential damage the writer’s strike might have on this season of 30 Rock, than weep for the hopelessness that is this war.
Hopelessness is such a pessimistic word. Is there room for pessimism when you have just produced the next generation? Having a baby in war time is perhaps the most optimistic thing one can do. Or perhaps the most selfish. I haven’t decided which.
I hate how easy it is to forget about this war. How distracted we all are. And how distracted we want to be. I know that there are people aggressively fighting for change, who are doing something less passive than waiting for election season and praying I pick the right one.
What I want is something my heart of heart tells me I will never get. I want us to leave. I want us to apologize, say we were wrong. Then I want us to send money and resources. Pay to put things back together again. We have done wrong. There is no rewind. No undo. There is only apology. We must admit guilt and make amends.
This is more about war than it is peace. I’m sorry if I didn’t get what teh BlogBlast was all about.But now I’ve said what I needed to say. And I’ll go back to blog hopping and online shopping as though nothing bad has ever happened. Because it’s the only way I function. The only way to not feel hopeless. I close my eyes and forget.
The act is unforgivable. But still, I forget.
(Cross-posted at NabloPoMo.)
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