Victims of Our Apathy

He ran, like a wounded prey in a last attempt to live. He ran for his childhood, for his life, for his fear of non-existence. He ran for his ignorance, not knowing what has valued his life less worthy than a distant pseudo-cause. It’s only a run from his bedroom to his mother’s arms. He only feared, as he ran, that the shelling would be as powerful as its noise; worried it would hit the fragile walls of his house and fall on his head before he meets his mother. Poor little kid, he didn’t know that there were also weapons of death that are far more powerful than their sounds. Silence, is a weapon of death, far more than it sounds. Desensitization is another. Indifference is a third. A sniper shot is a fourth. He reached his mother shivering, his mother’s face all in red. Not a revolutionary red, not a warrior, not a fighter not honor not love not the sunset. A sniper from the other side has managed to infiltrate his mother’s head with a tiny bullet…

To Jana Kamal Eddine & Sarah Hussein… Tripoli, Bab El Tebbene

All he had was a little wagon. He lived by the wagon. He lived through the wagon; warming up the hearts of the people, next to the seashore, with a hot drink. While the seashore, valued for millions of dollars, legally for the public, has been robbed. From the far North to the far South, a seafront robbed by its proclaimed protectors. The man behind an illegal wagon was considered a national threat, an outlaw, and a worrisome to economic growth and to the repute of the state’s transparency and corruption levels. Chased by the enslaved officers, he had no time to weigh his two options. He didn’t need to weigh anything though; he chose to die with dignity than to live begging for survival. He threw himself, with no second thoughts, all the way down to the dirty polluted rocks of the shore. He cleaned it all up, with his enraged oppressed mistreated undervalued blood.

To Nabil Zgheib, the man that refused to live without dignity, refused to be a client to a political warlord. The man stood next to me, demanding the end of the sectarian regime. To you, I question my humanity and my morality. I question if I deserve my life.

I promise you, and what you stood for, and all those who died in dignity, victims of the system that is merely a byproduct of our resilience, arrogance, indifference, violence and greed; to all of you, I promise I shall never bow to a man with a tie in this country. I shall never smile to a man with a tie in this country. I smile to your souls, and to all the victims who preceded you, and to those who shall follow you.

Published in Mish Jareedi June/July 2013 Printed Edition – click here to view original publication