...I'm okay with being REALITY-based.

Friday, June 18, 2004
      ( 7:17 AM )

Deadline. One man's fate unknown. A family sick with mourning or wondering...or hoping, but afraid to hope. One man posturing, proving he has power, using the life of another as his bounty. The spawning of this army of posturers, this hoard of wannabes - wannabe what? Leaders? Terrorists? Rich? Powerful? Devout? Holy? Where did they come from? How are they made, these mighty men of grief? What language do we use to reach them? Do we want to reach them? Can we even try? Why bother? Our own language distorted by our own mighty men of grief. Terror - is it a word we can even define anymore? Terror - far overused. Has it lost its meaning completely? It's no longer merely the emotion, the state of tribulation in the heart when encountering a miracle - it's now the cause of war, the soundbite of bullies, the catchphrase of the regretful. It's now an alert level. Is my terror blue today? Nope, still yellow. Where do we find that true emotion - is it bled out of us after too much abuse of the very word that describes itself? Will we ever rescue terror from the ravages of war? Will we ever learn not to declare war on our emotions?

When does it stop? Does it stop? Is our hatred for hatred enough to stop hatred? Why is our laziness so much more powerful than our desire for peace or justice? In our laziness, these groaning giants grab up life for themselves and leave us all with the ravages of their wars. If we do not bow to the demands of this wannabe, we sacrifice the life of an innocent - a bystander - one life, just as important as another. How many are we willing to sacrifice for the ultimate goal of...what? Invasion of countries. Occupation. Creation, stimulation, perpetuation of terror, birthing hatred and angst and loss and grief. What could have been accomplished in the last three years had we not been lazy and allowed these posturers, these seekers of power, these manipulators of their God's will, to act upon their own greedy desires? What could we have done to heal, to empower, to salve? Could we have risked pain to gain harmony? Could we have risked safety to gain brotherhood? We'll never know. Our butts are too heavy, we cannot lift ourselves from our comfortable cushions of apathy. Our apathy doesn't breed hatred. It only lets it survive. What will make us respond with compassion and energy instead of disdain and resignation?

Yell. Scream. Sputter. Complain. Rage. Walls with impressions of heads. What avenue exists that will provide a detour? What map are we reading? Time. How much time. How much time is there until another innocent dies? How much time will it take to report whether that innocent was a white person or a brown person? How much time will pass before retribution occurs against another white person or another brown person? How much time until the God that both worship gives up on us all?

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