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megatronixA little girl in an attic sought to be quiet enough to be safe, sought refuge with a pen in the pages of her little book of blank spaces waiting to be filled. She didn't know her words would be spread worldwide, filling the blank slates of tiny humans who can barely comprehend her journey, or why things played out like they did, why she was taken from the world.
A little boy of the same time grew up, observed, took in, and spoke out. This isn't right, he knew. This shouldn't be. He shared with us his Dream. And then someone took him from the world, too.
Get rid of these things, the Takers said of these fine people. I don't want things to be equal. I want things to be more equal for ME! the Takers cried.
Another writer had captured the Takers remarkably well in his own pages, painted them as pigs and sheep, an insult to the pigs and sheep, really.
What the little girl, the Dreamer, and the writer all sought after is the longed-for treasure of Truth And Equity.
And we still seek it.
The truth is, it's a game to the Takers, a game of money and greed. The truth is, it doesn't have to be this way. The truth is, we can do better. So much better than a bully for a President, ripping families from other nations apart, letting children die in ice boxes, and building a giant wall to protect us against what they say is Other, but is really Us.
We can take down that wall, and all the others. We are holding our hammers. We just need to raise them up, as we raise our voices to be heard.
And when we need help seeing how ridiculous it all is, there is nothing more illuminating than a gathering of little children, just like the child in the attic, the little children who sit on the floor, surrounded by volumes and volumes of words that have been put down on blank pages, as they ask, "but why? why was it ever this way?" And we who are grown like the man with the Dream, who share his dream, can only say, why indeed. And clench our grip tighter around the handles we are carrying.
Hard work may make our palms sweaty. But we will not lose our grip.
A little boy of the same time grew up, observed, took in, and spoke out. This isn't right, he knew. This shouldn't be. He shared with us his Dream. And then someone took him from the world, too.
Get rid of these things, the Takers said of these fine people. I don't want things to be equal. I want things to be more equal for ME! the Takers cried.
Another writer had captured the Takers remarkably well in his own pages, painted them as pigs and sheep, an insult to the pigs and sheep, really.
What the little girl, the Dreamer, and the writer all sought after is the longed-for treasure of Truth And Equity.
And we still seek it.
The truth is, it's a game to the Takers, a game of money and greed. The truth is, it doesn't have to be this way. The truth is, we can do better. So much better than a bully for a President, ripping families from other nations apart, letting children die in ice boxes, and building a giant wall to protect us against what they say is Other, but is really Us.
We can take down that wall, and all the others. We are holding our hammers. We just need to raise them up, as we raise our voices to be heard.
And when we need help seeing how ridiculous it all is, there is nothing more illuminating than a gathering of little children, just like the child in the attic, the little children who sit on the floor, surrounded by volumes and volumes of words that have been put down on blank pages, as they ask, "but why? why was it ever this way?" And we who are grown like the man with the Dream, who share his dream, can only say, why indeed. And clench our grip tighter around the handles we are carrying.
Hard work may make our palms sweaty. But we will not lose our grip.
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Date: 2019-01-18 03:35 pm (UTC)