A moment of contemplation... how close have we ever been to a war? To bombing? To desperation? How can you tell, just walking down the street, who has been fired at, watched brothers and sisters murdered? How do you tell?
Can you watch their face as they pass? Does the face give something away?
I listen , with loathing, to that government of Australia, mired in its own wealthy entitlement, conferring cruelty to refugees with a casual flick of the wrist- " take them away". I listen to stories of where people have come from . I wonder at the person who denies them human rights and I , down in my boots, hope that one day karma will alight on their shoulders.
I wonder how it feels to hear the plane overhead and the whistle of a bomb- these days a drone can take you out and you would never know. I wonder how it feels as your whole world turns to rubble and dust and nothingness and all you ever owned or knew is blasted away from you.
Or the woman, a mother, giving birth in the car as they escaped to Iran...... the grandfather beaten with a hose filled with rock.
This country has so many faces, some heavily veiled and some offering fleeting glimpses.
I had breakfast with my Senior class this morning , during the first lesson- gourmet doughnuts, little soft pizza things, cinammon cookies- a glucose induced coma almost followed!
I heard the stories of the Iraq invasion- you know, the one we watched on TV- the demolishing of the refineries and the setting alight of oil wells- you know the one where USA came leaping in and saved the day?
Well, this happened to real people who lost other real people and heard them die.
This is here I am
Set here amongst these stories are we extras- the helpers.
I am fascinated to be here while still being mildly bothered by some things- it has set my mind on fire !
and I sink back
thinking how lucky I am to have been offered a chance for change...
Can you watch their face as they pass? Does the face give something away?
I listen , with loathing, to that government of Australia, mired in its own wealthy entitlement, conferring cruelty to refugees with a casual flick of the wrist- " take them away". I listen to stories of where people have come from . I wonder at the person who denies them human rights and I , down in my boots, hope that one day karma will alight on their shoulders.
I wonder how it feels to hear the plane overhead and the whistle of a bomb- these days a drone can take you out and you would never know. I wonder how it feels as your whole world turns to rubble and dust and nothingness and all you ever owned or knew is blasted away from you.
Or the woman, a mother, giving birth in the car as they escaped to Iran...... the grandfather beaten with a hose filled with rock.
This country has so many faces, some heavily veiled and some offering fleeting glimpses.
I had breakfast with my Senior class this morning , during the first lesson- gourmet doughnuts, little soft pizza things, cinammon cookies- a glucose induced coma almost followed!
I heard the stories of the Iraq invasion- you know, the one we watched on TV- the demolishing of the refineries and the setting alight of oil wells- you know the one where USA came leaping in and saved the day?
Well, this happened to real people who lost other real people and heard them die.
This is here I am
Set here amongst these stories are we extras- the helpers.
I am fascinated to be here while still being mildly bothered by some things- it has set my mind on fire !
and I sink back
thinking how lucky I am to have been offered a chance for change...
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