Colours that flow from the open wound with such a force that the evidence of its passing is sprayed upon all those that are too close to the point of exclusion. Flowing with mauve and silent intent, the colours forge a new path, into the valley of flesh, that all can see, but none can touch.
Legions of armored people in garish colours that would make a lady blush, congregate upon trenches in the flesh, whilst distinct pastels find their secret ways amongst the maze of wrinkles. Those who are guided by an unseen hand, follow the leaders towards a large pendulum of fate, and those that follow like sheep in the hillside of time, find no more than simple truths in their quest.
Now some of you who have NOT had coffee will scratch their heads at these paragraphs. Thinking the OLD girl has gone off her rocker, finally blown fuses, and maybe even be committable. But when you boil it all down. It is just a perspective you had not considered.
And let’s face it, considering a new perspective should be everyone’s task at leat once a month. They say ” a rolling stone gathers no moss.” I say a stagnant pond, is nothing more than a body of none moving water. But again if you boil it down, They are just as “right” as I am.
The problem comes when you apply this logic to the news of the day. I personally cannot see a way to justify the cruel heartless and cowardly attacks on Nice in France yesterday. And trust me I have tried to find a reason a single worthwhile shred of justification for EVER doing something so atrocious. I can, However, find EIGHTY FOUR reasons pretty damn quickly to condemn this poor gutless wonder. As Much as I try to change perspective over this , I cannot.
I tried to draw a parallel between the Paris attacks and this event. But even that event, which was obviously France being punished and coerced into accepting the program that other countries had decided France would follow, as Sheep to the butchers, did Not find a possible reason for such a waste of life.
I am as you may notice Irish, worse for some I am from the North. so I do know a thing or two about bombs and bullets and old men that sit in small coves in the public houses, working on ways to resolve conflicts of perspective. Even with the knowledge that such atrocities are listed as collateral damage, which flies int he face of all I believe to be true and good but is a truth none the less.
My heart feels and shakes to such a thing as this. I cannot condone this act. ButI feels unsettled. As if the whole story of this is not yet in the public domain. The details do not add up so well in my mind. and that gives me cause to pause on any socially media acceptable type of judgment on this, past the obvious horror at such a loss of life.
Yesterday was My Birthday. Bastille day. A day I used to look forwards to .I shared My birthday with Embeth Delicioso. A woman I miss dearly. And now I add more tears to that day. As some coward for whatever reason didn’t consider the larger perspective of loss of life. People will moan and whine about the eighty-four who died and rightly so . But I wonder if they will whine about the hundred of others that now see my Birthday as a day of sadness, not happiness, or celebration for a liberated country. But instead, have to now mourn for their loved ones who have died or been injured in this senseless act.