it is. on fire.
this house – this country – is on fire.
there are some fires that water will simply not douse, that regular fire-mitigating won’t choke out. this is one of those.
it rages with hotter heat and more tenacity. it is impervious to deterrents. its flames reach into the souls of those with souls and its ash, always ready to ignite, is never extinguished, never snuffed out, smoldering for more years than we can wrap our heads around.
its destruction has burned more deeply into lives than the magma-chasm of volcanos.
there aren’t enough words to quell the wrenching heartache of inequity – the fire has eaten through them all.
there is silence – staggering, heartbroken, earth-shattering silence – and we must hear it.
there aren’t enough excuses to explain it away – people have turned their backs on this smoldering fire, consensual participants in fanning the blaze, the oppression, the hatred.
there are reasons – a history of inequity that predates us and continues like an undercurrent, always there.
there aren’t enough condolences to offer those burned and scarred – empty thoughts and prayers are issued by people standing in bigot-hydrant vicinity, safely far enough away, not in the fray, not affected or effecting.
there are empty words of solicitousness, of sympathy – the pat on the head and the turn back to your-own-life.
there aren’t solutions ready at the fingertips – the listening, talking, desperately sincere efforts to understand, to have empathy, to stop and put on others’ shoes, the soles of which have been melted by the hot lava of this fire. these are within our grasp; we must step out of complicit complacency. we must acknowledge the chasm between lip service and true comprehension. black lives matter.
there is an imperative – to take action, to make change.
in the middle of peaceful protestors being forcibly removed from the area near the white house with tear gas and rubber bullets, the president of this country haughtily walked across the street and stood before a church holding a bible. it was an empty moment, devoid of positive or constructive meaning, spraying more firestarter onto a fire-lit-for-centuries. an arsonist. shameful.
“what else can happen?” we wonder?
each day we are stunned.
read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY