Autumn Surprise (the dilemma)
1.
He tied his shoes, looked out of his window
nothing but darkness, but the murmur
of others was there
A complete peace settled within him
this day—
planned meticulously
with the others.
Dying was a gift in this tumultuous world
and if done right, he'd exit like a martyr
leaving no trace behind.
We all shared the sentiment:
death for us
was a direct entry out of this hell—
this Jahanam.
And so, he would show no fear.
And so he would show no mercy.
2.
Bodies lay in layers, one upon the other
Once hot with the exertion of dance
Swaying to the rhythmic pulse of electronic music.
A black and white vision comes to mind:
bodies lay layered, bereft of sustenance
In black and white Europe.
A haunting vision in the subconscious of a people
A grief, unquestionable
lingering
in its duration.
An October surprise unfolds,
With humans ablaze in conflict's fire.
Choices, stark and gut-wrenching
demand contemplation, Weighing the gravity
of horrors bringing the beheadings
pose a macabre question:
Which is more heinous?
Witnessing a child's agony as they die a bloody death.
Or a child, bereft, witnessing a parent's violent end?
The atrocities captured on film
snuff films, worse even somehow
A terror intended to shock, disorient
echoing past traumas.
A forced awakening to acute awareness
that was thought to be forever eliminated
from the planet.
3.
In time, And yet, But Still,
The clarity of violence emerged
amidst the chaos.
Retribution descended
upon a populace already wronged
Bodies,
once again
emaciated,
Lay beneath the debris of shattered homes
Collapsing into themselves.
Countless bombs descended
claiming myriad lives
Posing a shared moral quandary:
To be the child, adrift in a realm of unfathomable cruelty, watching their parents blown apart.
Or the parents,
extracting a small lifeless form from the wreckage.
A voice approaches the grieving
Assuring them
that all was done within the rules of warfare.
4.
Transfixed abroad, scenes of wailing people
haunt our screens, carried in every pocket
every palm.
Generations butchered, blown apart
create a need, a call to action
resonating, echoing.
So we take to the streets
or to our temples or
commit unthinkable acts against 7 year olds
Never simply pausing to reflect
our little lottery win
born without the fear of flames or thirst
Never mind this—
A time to choose sides, to align ourselves
in a world starkly divided
painfully unbalanced.