A letter of “my king”
Dearest Pelopi,
It is an honor to speak with you once again. As a servant of our royal nation I am proud to learn of what concerns your heart through any means. You have proved yourself well while fighting for justice in this realm. I implore you, do not lose faith for a greater time will come.
It's happening. It is happening and I can feel it happening - can see its destruction upon me, us. What will be done about this? Well, I don't. What can be? His rule is like no other. In the past, I've heard stories of great leaders, countrymen and women, souls willing to defend this realm with honor and above all, humility. Now, despite hearing those stories, internalizing them, I've been struck with the reality that they were just that -stories. And, as many times as we, the people, have heard warnings from and of far off lands that have had these leaders, kings and queens - rulers who have forced the weight of their reign onto the poor and needy, my hand has also been forced. I have not had the right, but instead the pain in realizing that those are not just stories. The king I have, no... the king, I fear, is not a good king. He does not suffer for his people; he does not ache for their pain, he has shown himself to have no right to call himself such, and yet I am required to refer to him as such, as his loyal subject. He has seen the wounds of this realm and has not offered balm, but instead he continually bruises and breaks the heads and heels of those that only seek solace. We look at him and think How could this have been done? A man we accepted not because we were able to, but because it is tradition to, has shown us that he has no interest in the traditions that have made us strong, but instead the traditions that will make us appear weak. Why does loyalty still flow through my veins? In this world that I have been placed in, not necessarily by my own doing, but by what I have allowed and by whom has brought me here, why do I still feel a sense of pride? Why do I still want to see and give my best, although I am told to follow a ruler who has not shown me that example. I look up to my elders and ancestors in the way that I can, through kind eyes, because that is what they have given me, and yet every night I see my father, my mother, my grandfather fall on his knees not in prayer, but in shame and hurt... I write these words to you, so that you will remember our statement - remember our resistance:
I. AM. NOT. MY RULER.
These words; this idea has been forced on us. Through his incomparable ability to stay blind and deaf to our concerns, we have been forced to believe this - that we are not our own rulers. But I know who I am. I am the voice of the people that know what can be done better and differently. I am the mother who despite nurturing her child as best she could has somehow found no way of explaining why the best will not be given to them by those in power; who speak of wanting their devotion, but show no effort to reciprocate the same. I am the farmer who tills not just the soil that we gain nourishment from, but the soil that supports our feet as we walk in silence each day allowing our king not to suffer for us, not to make us suffer, but to turn a blind eye to our suffering. Each morning, as he wakes, he may see the red of a beautiful sunrise, but I, I see the red of the blood my people have shed; I see the red of the passionate soul that does not wish to watch her family suffer; I see the red of the revolution his ignorance toward our cries has made us start - and we will finish on top.
I am not my ruler. I am not my king. I am exactly what he has not wanted by his side. If I wanted to be like him, if I could be like him, I would not be suffering in shame; I would not feel at a loss. But because my realm has made me who I am, and because the essence of my beliefs have opened my eyes to seeing him as who he is - a tyrant - I will continue to fight to reach the hearts of those that I may, no, need to stand with.
Remember these words for your children and for yourself. Because that safety we once held as a privilege has no longer been perpetuated as something owed to us, I pray that at the very least this message may reach you safely, may find its way in your homes and your heart. The flames of justice that were once merely embers will roar into a magnanimous fire, greater than we could have ever imagined.
My dearest Pelopi, remember these words, recite them everyday, let them be your prayer at night:
I. AM. NOT. MY RULER.
And remember that you will always be.
Sangruis