I sit here in tears on a saturday morning. I sit here reminded of the paths I've tred and the roads I've walked, unable to to grip the tragedy of it all.
It’s not the pain in my feet that has my chest heaving, nor the burden of the load that has my tears streaked.
No.
Those I can bare for as long as I can, but they will never bring such tears to my eye.
No.
My sadness stems from the road I never had to cross and probably never will.
Today started off well; like any other that I can recently recall.
My life is good, if only as of late.
I should feel happy to be here, and that I am.
But there is an emptiness to that happiness. An emptiness that knows that it is not well deserved.
I’ve worked hard for everything I have, and here I am.
Yet, so have others and well..there they fall.
And that’s why I cry.
Not because there is no justice, but because it’s like we don’t even care.
Last week I sat with another individual within the military talking about the direction this country has taken, and the path it led the both of us on, and I made the weary observation that everything is over come 2008....for America.
I didn’t really appreciate the significance of my pragmatism. Afterall, am I not right? Does not the American people want to see an end to this war?
That sounds nice doesn’t it? No more war. No more death. No more pain.
Yea. It does.
But the question is, will that happen? Or will we simply turn our eyes from the reality of the situation?
I long for the former, but I know the latter to be true.
This morning I read the news like I always do: With a sense of detachment from the events and the trials of the rest of the world.
And then I lost it with these words: “ I am Iraqi and to me the possible consequences of this vote are terrifying.
Just as we began to see signs of progress in my country the Democrats come and say: "Well, it's not worth it, so it's time to leave.”
These simple words hit me harder than I have ever been hit before.
He’s right.
Everyday we wage a war of words back home in America, pretending to want what is best for the people of Iraq and the world, but it’s all a lie.
The politicians don’t care, and even more importantly neither do the people. Well, maybe some do, but usually only in a manner that benefits them.
They want their father, husband, brother or son home.
If an Iraqi, or even a Sudanese, Ruwandan, or Checyn die it’s just how it is.
Cindy Sheehan, Karl Rove. They’re all the same.
One’s just more honest than the next.
We play these political games, never really realizing that the fate of thousands hang in the balance, and it saddens me. It saddens me, not because of what we do, it’s the pretext of how we do it.
We say it’s right, when we should know it’s not.
We ignore the wrong.
But some of us can’t. Some of us, maybe through blood, or maybe through deed can not.
So, I sit here. On a saturday morning.
