Deaf and Dumb
Friday, 29 July 2011 16:56

Three children under eight years of age were shot dead last night in the projects of Miami – a spree shooting with an AK47. No motive. No suspects. No one heard or knows who or why...

Japanese school children go to school with mini-geiger counters – country-wide. The technology strapped to their tiny necks, ticks.  Radioactivity there, worldwide, is silent.  No one is watching. Checking.  It’s an old story.

In Norway, a lone gunman was able to get to an island children’s camp dressed as a police officer, herd the children and start shooting as they instinctively scattered.  Dead bodies and running, screaming children were photographed, videoed by media helicopters well before police reached the area – they were tied up at the Oslo bombing and in a leaky boat. Terror brought to Norway, the biggest provider of false identification to al Quaeda conduits travelling to North America.  Until today, the young bodies were still being identified, parents located and notified. A summer camp experience ended. A dual tragedy, already muted.

The global economy is held hostage by elected officials in “Washington , D.C., U.S. of A”. It is not "next week" that is damaging. It is the “now” of busy adversary, of the contagion of tweeting, hurried, hived, passive sighs and movies- on-demand, of knowing the world is descending but muffling our fear with Facebook. The small steps of elected ideologues, ignoring, dormant and deaf to the terror of the elderly, the poorer poor, the disenfranchised and hopeless.

We can watch revolutions and real-time murder, and we can switch them off. We can wonder and weave ungrammatical complaints about those who rule and those who gain with each notch-up of fear and with each jagged grade between the "haves" and the "un-surviving". We can do so much to see just enough to turn off and get busy doing nothing.

I no longer ask, “Where are our hearts?”

 I mourn the visible darkness, of senses deadened to flesh, blood, connection, youth in need of hope, and the long lost compulsion to act with volume, scattering the dust of human skin.  

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