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July 01, 2009
The consistancy of blood. (blood is essential)
There's a certain melancholy to my people. Their eyes half open, looking far , simmered in a quiet tension. I miss my people, it has been a long time since.............. I miss the stillness of my days there, the scent of dust as it hovers in the air. Like a black and white movie noire which brings the detail out to its grainiest point. You could almost touch the air, it is heavy and dense. Life is so real there you could feel it pulling on you. Life is so layered in such distinguished measures. Life stands center stage, lit and brazen with unkempt hair, unshaven face, Brown black sunken eyes. and yet you yearn to touch him.
Life walked up town the other day, his eyes fixed, his jaw locked, it held stones in his hands. Life hummed a quiet tone as it marched, and as his pace got faster his voice raised, he objected to all it could as the crowd gathered following him. I could see my sisters walking erect behind him, chanting his songs and when the bullets came, they held him around his wrists and carried him, walking uptown.
There is a certain quality to Blood. It is red and it flows. Once there is a gash in the skin, a knife or a bullet wound, Blood rushes out. There is a consistent quality to blood. It carries life in measured genetic vessels and once out it loses the life it has carried within, however it tends to nourish much higher life that has collaborated in many epics of human uprisings against uneven odds for survival of ideas that have been the cornerstone of Human dignity and morality. Blood is essential.
Blood in its organic hues of reds, oxidized by air would scab around or on the surface it occupies and the image of a beautiful girl with blood oozing out of her mouth and ear can be horrifying. The image of dried blood -- a certain deep red almost black on the face of a beautiful girl as it covers one eye and leaves the other lifeless eye open to the indifference of death and its finality could horrify a nation, a continent,and even the whole world as they watch, knowing that Blood is essential .
How do we measure a life. in years, in the extent of happiness that life experiences, in the extent of happiness that life has brought to the others. How has her life effected the rotations of the Earth , the Moon and the sun.
Does anybody remember her name. Is her name familiar now to the strangers. Would her picture make you pause and think a bit outside your habitual, accidental living. Is the image of her splayed on the black asphalt as blood pours out of her mouth and ears and eyes, covering one eye as the other stands still in horror of death, does that image stays in the conscious mind of God.
I look at the map of my country and for the first time in a very long time, I feel a heart beating within its soil. I see greens braving the asphalt and steel , rushing up toward the sun. I see truth written on placards and signs and spelled in marches and mantras. I see the sons of the fathers who gave this land to the most shameless elements of Evil. I see the sons and the daughters of the fathers who submitted to the lazy dreams of religions and accepted that Islam means Submission( no matter how misguided that is). Those sons and daughters have stood up for their basic right of freedom.
Posted by Idinraha at 03:45 PM | Comments (1)