“later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
where does it hurt?
News terrify me these days. The papers , the bulletin , social media headlines – everything. Many time have I found myself sat in the shower , cold water running all over me while my mind turned into broken cassettes depicting all the wounds Mother Earth has to bear. Each of them is bleeding, never stand a chance to turn into scars .
The people in the street during Bastille’s Day, people shot in Orlando, the ones who bleed in Istanbul – each and every last of them is our family . We may not be connected by our blood’s DNA , but we belong to the same race of homo sapient, same being emerged from two colliding universe , from love. For that reason, we are all one of the same.
But I never made it to know them. Even worst for their family, it carves out a deep, black hole out of their heart ., leaving them torn of having to mourn their loved ones who crossed the bridge too early.
And it could be the people I already built camaraderie with . It could be my loved ones, the ones I coauthored my our journey home , with. My heart trembles even with a mere thought of it.
It could be me. As morbid as it sounds , I’d rather it be me, instead of random other 7.25 billions people in this world. Isn’t it there in many story books and epic tales , where one person is all it takes to change the world ? I wish it was that easy .But It isn’t. This battle belong to the people who incurred so much turmoil and painful masses inside and they’d go out , with no faith, little hope and dying heart , barren from love to hurt another being.
This isn’t an influenza or ebola. Not cancer or cholera. This is civil war, where a war thorn human being kills one another. This is an epidemic ingested from hate , and we have something greater than that : a vaccine stronger than ammo, louder than atrocities.
Love. We have love, this one kind of magic we carry within our alchemist heart. This , darlings , is the panacea to all the diseases in this world . And then we have faith, green flames soaring across the sky when the city lights went out while nation flags descends their poles.
But we aren’t broken yet. We are still standing , and love is still the loudest echo in this space. We are going to rise , from our ashes , amidst the chaos like phoenix does. Maybe the legend of King Arthur is a myth, but our humanity isn’t. In those little pieces of hope, I have faith , and sown my love in.
You want peace : create love.