A friend wrote this poem in response of some recent world events. What is Terrorism? What is terrorism? Is it felling the ancient Kapok Tree, shelter of the Amazon? Or flushing the Kayapo from the river, the only home theyve known? Or silencing the chant of Yanomami, beneath the relentless drone Of a chainsaws barbed, flat note? What is terrorism? is it making- breaking and remaking notions of nationhood and flag mounted patriotism. Marching, marching, marching us home. While carving out copper for our cells, diamond for our rings and oil for our wheels from foreign soil? Is it the communities left ecologically, economically, agriculturally and socially unsustainable? Wastelands for no mans till earth’s lush green garments, turn to grey rags of sackcloth and ash. Ecological hedonism? What is terrorism? Is it Imperialism or occupation? The right to colonise but not accept unfateful immigrants? Or that only one story gets promoted, scripted, rehearsed and played out on the screen, as propaganda, not real life, because here on the ground, the dirt is getting hot under our feet, and no one looks air brushed. Is it the devaluation of indigenous cultures? Is it taking a child from its mothers arms? Is it getting cheap threads from the sweat of the poor? Or when children turn up at borders, like Lazarus at the gates? Is it the 10% who own 86% of the worlds wealth, or the bottom half that own only 1%? Is it the banks getting bailed out while people who work 3 jobs lose their family home? Or just another small farm foreclosed? What is terrorism? Does it grow slow and subtle, like not noticing how the swallow glides abandoned and free on thermal and wing. The first note of the blackbird at dawn? Or the laughter of sunlight as it startles an old woman from sleep making her throw off her shoes and run barefoot through the cool grass like when she was a girl? Is it putting the clock before now? Money before moments. The yard stick, the measuring tape, the win or loose instead of just finishing the race. Ideals before reality. Ideology before humanity? Saying its just the ways things are. There is always some collateral damage. And the monotonous lie that only the strongest survive and might is right. Or is it the news desk voices still ringing in our ears at four in the morning making sure weve locked our doors. Keeping us afraid and alone, divided and apart. Tied and bound to con tracts and mort gages. Till all we can do is shift our weight slowly, slowly, across the tightrope Weve hauled between the bars, of the prisons we sleep in, Terrorised.
Posted on: Sat, 26 Jul 2014 20:22:36 +0000
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