Thursday, May 17, 2007

THE TRAGEDY OF THE UNWORTHY.

This heart has no love in it no more; this heart has grown old and weary. This heart has no meaning to it no more; this heart has only blood in it. This heart has no purpose except to keep this cadaver alive. This heart closed it eyes for beauty and kindness and now sees only pain and suffering. Or was it that its eyes were closed for it? This heart sees no color anymore, this heart doesn't recognize passion, this heart doesn't do the things it was created to do, except keeping this cadaver alive. These is no love in this heart anymore, it might as well stop pumping blood.
Of all the things that have become, and all the things that are yet to pass, this heart has no sense. This heart lost its existence in the world. What’s the meaning of material existence if you don’t really exist? If you don’t really feel this existence? If you don’t feel the things and people around you? Because this heart lost all feelings, this heart lost its ability to withstand, to survive. It has grown despondent, solitary, like it has been swallowed by a whale.
Four years I have lived inside this whale’s belly, Jonas stayed for 3 days and cried his eyes out, and I have been here for 4 years. I envy him; at least his had a god to help him? Where is my god? Is he hiding in the green zone too? Is he behind stone walls and concrete blocks? Does he have black water bodyguards? Does he only listen to eloquent sophisticated non-Arabic prayers? I can send him a dictionary, I just need the address.
3500 lives is the cost of this war, nobody counts the unworthy, the not-humans. Some say 50.000 some say a million, but nobody is keeping count. Nobody counts this heart. Nobody cares about this heart. My feelings are limited by my limited vocabulary, but my words are from my aching heart. I am earth, I am from earth, and my words are to earth.
But nobody counts this heart, and many many other hearts like it, hearts that have stopped loving and caring, hearts that even stopped doing its main physiological reason of being, hearts that have stopped beating, stopped pumping blood to bodies, bodies turned to cadavers, humans turned into worm food, even worms don’t like the taste of the unworthy. Who can blame them? dogs are being taken care of more than the unworthy, dogs are more cared for than the unworthy, they know how much they spend on dogs, but do they know how many unworthy they have killed?
4 million displaced, and there is no problem, why? Because they are the unworthy. What would they think if 15 million people of their country were displaced? Probably wouldn't care because most of them would be poor, the unworthy again. Hail Katrina.
Hail Caesar. He came, he saw, he conquered the unworthy. Hail Caesar for bringing democracy to the unworthy, they ungrateful. Hail him for ridding the world from the “superfluous”, the “unnecessary”, the unworthy.
This heart makes no sense anymore, it has no sense anymore. It tortures itself for things that happened a long time ago, things that its imagines it going to happen, things it doesn't want to happen but still does. Images of mistakes and misjudgments, images of love and passion, a passion he doest know anymore. It’s like giving a man who suffered amnesia his ID card, it feels familiar but the face and the name doesn't ring any bells. This heart has new friends. Pain and cigarettes are his only best friends, one of them is going to the reason of its demise, and maybe both if it lasted long.
“these young hearts have already become old- and not even old! Only weary” Friedrich Nietzsche.

2 Comments:

At 7:23 AM, Blogger jae said...

Are you going to write back to me?

I would love to see an email from you....

 
At 5:55 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I hope you write again,
an old friend

 

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