DESPAIR A TEA

At times I sip my tea with despair.

Call it despair, “a tea.”

I think of all the bodies buried under ruble.

How far I am away from the tragedy.

I think back to early October 2023.

I think of the decade of chaos prior.

I have no words palatable.

I just think.

My problems are so small.

In the grand scheme of things.

I write this today thinking of the little lives brought into the world only knowing the dungeon.

I fear their fate of the red wing.

I sit here shakily as I drink my tea.

I understand that I’ve barely touched the most minimal of things.

There are issues vastly larger than me.

I know that direct and indirect violence is one in the same.

I only know a smidge of the problems I cannot see…

Touch so many.

So, who am I to say I am free?

Just because I don’t face a regime?

I am not free of the emotion it wells inside of me.

Deep.

The deepest it will ever go.

This sense of despair for the children raised under oppression beyond my imagining.

I think of my country and its role of dehumanizing.

I think of little eyes and baby teeth.

How cattle being prodded is far more humane than what any of these children are currently facing.

A heavy sigh escapes me.

There is no relief on suffering.

It’s always somewhere, isn’t it?

For this moment and the next.

I know that a thousand more lives are just disposed of and yet…

I drink my tea…

Daring not to forget…

There will one day be a reckoning.

I endlessly hope that day is today.

For now…

I just have my thoughts and some words to give away…