the dance of the ink riddled fingers

trading thoughts for children for something more comfortable

Posted in 52 pickup, epiphany tiffany by enisea on 01/04/2011

They’re in primary school.  They are girls – not teens, not women… girls.  They probably aren’t too familiar with the term ‘insecurity’ and haven’t yet acknowledged or realised how it has already manifested in them – but it makes me sick.  The worst parts of my teenage years have reawakened and erupted with force enough to destroyed those floodgates I built to keep horrible memories back.  I’ve been overwhelmed by what I see in the young girls I know…in primary school.  Regale I, the naivety of “back when” I would scoff at the witness of my peers jumping through hoops to attain definitions of beauty and then in secret do the same, to the laughter of hypocrisy.  Hah, I speak as though I’ve outgrown it. 

Sometimes it hurts instead – the someone we were looking for, was ourselves… whole (complete and not only in the image of, but of the being of Somebody greater).  Yet, the deepest we were able to dig wouldn’t have uncovered anything any more pure.  Weak eyes and frozen fingers could not deal delicately enough with the best parts of us; we needed somebody stronger, somebody purer and who might know us intimately enough to understand our intricate infrastructure and drill through our concrete yet avoid our wells of poison to extract the little bits of treasure buried ever deep – without shortcircuiting our wiring or leaving giant scars…unlike the amatuers we permit into our courtyards who leave us poorer and more damaged.

Haha, I sound so bitter, and I am, at society for it’s deception and gulibility in believing and convincing its children that another human being could rescue each and every one of us… when they can’t, we can’t.

Not only are we loosing our children to poverty in the sense of natural disaster, 3rd world poverty, prostitution, slavery and child labour… we, of ‘rich’ 1st world countries are loosing our children to insecurity, self-centredness and oblivious obliquity.  Who will save humanity when the ‘poor’ look to the righteousness and generousity of the ‘rich’, yet the ‘rich’ are ‘poor’ of concern. 

And being a child of the West, I will leave the house and these thoughts in 30 minutes to converse with those friends of mine who just enjoyed a month-long holiday, over supper and coffee – for the price that could provide fresh water to a village for probably a week… then sleep because my head feels like it might fall off and then wake up in the warmth of the morrow and be concerned over what to wear and how best to impress everybody else whilst attempting to appear like I made no effort to. 

I will weep for the children the next time I remember our dire predicament. 

I don’t have the time or energy to tonight.

My Love, what is this compassion you speak of?


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