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That’ll Be The Day By Nancy Greggs
I’m watching the news, or what passes for news on the TV these days. And I’m surfing the ‘net, bracing myself as I open threads that warn “Graphic Pictures – Do Not Open if You Have a Weak Stomach”.
Well, I do have a weak stomach, and a weak sense of reality these days, because I cannot – or want so much not to – believe what I am seeing, what I am hearing, things I am hoping against all hope are not true.
But I am compelled to look because I, as a citizen of this world, must bear witness to the atrocities. I MUST BEAR WITNESS, or everything that is right in this world will be lost.
I listen to the so-called ‘leaders’ of one side or the other – and it no longer matters who represents what ‘side’, or which conflict we are talking about – and I hear self-serving bullshit about fighting to the bitter end, about who has a right to exist as a people, about who has a right to defend themselves as a nation, spouted by individuals who speak from air-conditioned offices, comfortably relaxed in soft leather armchairs, smoking cigars and sipping well-aged Scotch, while they notch-up the casualties on a scoreboard and speak to their consultants about how many deaths will result in the PR most sympathetic to their alleged ‘cause’.
I watch as babies cry, their eyes burned away by the use of ‘banned’ weapons that are used nonetheless. I watch as yesterday’s toddlers try to grasp the fact that they are now without legs, and will never take another step. I watch as fathers weep over the loss of their only daughter, and as mothers decry the loss of their only son. I watch as people try to go about their daily lives, only to be caught up in the carnage that they never wished on anyone, the violence and death that has been decreed by others who have no one's fate in mind other than their own.
I watch because I cannot turn away, because it is my responsibility to observe and remember.
And as I watch, I cannot help but remember another time when such things took place. I have seen the photographs, the scratchy black-and-white films of people living in ‘camps’ under deplorable conditions, of people who were subjected to torture, of people who suffered while the self-proclaimed leaders of the world busied themselves with more important issues, like making money and winning elections that ensured political power.
And suddenly, ironically, I am filled with a sense of hope that justice will inevitably be done.
Because I think about the Holocaust survivors who lived to see the people who treated them like animals brought to trial, old men who had been hunted down for decades eventually sitting in a courtroom as their sentences were meted out.
And I think about the age we live in, when someday – hopefully sooner rather than later – the crimes of those perpetrating the present-day atrocities they are inflicting on the innocent will also be played out in a courtroom, this time captured indelibly on TV news soundbytes, on videotape, on internet captures that will be all-too undeniable when shown to a jury that cannot be swayed by the arguments of faulty memory of witnesses, or the misinterpretation of actions taken.
Ironically, in the midst of madness, I have found faith – faith in the fact that someday those who are guilty of selling out their fellow countrymen, their fellow human beings for the sake of money, power, or political influence, will eventually face the hangman’s noose – and when they do, it will be sweet irony to watch them realize they are not being hung by a piece of rope, but by their own deeds and their own words, captured forever, a million times over, on the media they once used to spread their propaganda.
That’ll be the day – and I will rejoice when it dawns.
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