Monday, May 02, 2011

The Pan Flute Plays On

I didn't see any news last night. When I got up and checked the weather this morning it took me a minute to understand the information.

Funny, I don't feel any safer.

There is dancing in the streets. There is rejoicing. There's a lot of self righteous gladness ripe with the unspoken challenge, "I dare you to condemn me for celebrating this death."

I don't feel any safer. I don't feel any happier. I feel something but I didn't know what until I emerged from the subway in Grand Central station to a familiar sight from long ago. Clusters of navy-clad men with helmets and kevlar and automatic weapons. There was a well-groomed, excited young German Shepherd dog barely able to maintain his seat next to a handler. All of them serenaded by the grating sounds of the pan flute ensemble who play that alcove every weekday morning.

I started to cry. Suddenly I knew how I felt. I feel thrown back. I feel as though it's ten years ago and nothing has changed. I feel hopeless and I wanted to just sit down next to that dog and weep into it's silky black fur because the worst thing of all is that I can't think of any acceptable alternative to killing Osama bin Laden. The only possible action has been taken and it hasn't changed anything.

So many are cheering this as a momentous occasion. It's something all right.

But it's not peace.

10 comments:

  1. This is beautiful. It expresses, with a kind of aching sparseness, exactly how I feel about the news today.

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  2. thank you. for articulating so well what my heart felt last night when the news came. you are living in the heart of it. i'm sending you love and peace. and thanks.

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  3. I feel the same. I don't see what difference it makes.

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  4. ditto all the others, and thank you. celebrate what exactly?

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  5. well said my friend, very well said.

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  6. fuckin' a right!

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  7. Yes, Kizz. This is it. As I watched the rally on Sunday night, there was something that made me uncomfortable and I couldn't figure it out. Finally it dawned on me that it reminded me of the mobs that would collect at Huntsville, TX on the nights someone was to be executed.

    No, the blood lust is not pretty. Death, even that of an enemy, is a solemn and terrible thing.

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