Social Sway by Anita Hotty - WordPress.com

Green Rivercoldcox sevenI look at the faces of pre-corpsed women. If you did not know thestory, you’d think they were just a bunch of pretty faces. My heartgulps back a misunderstood pain. Not gut wrenching, just a lightsense of sadness flooding a warmth with thoughts shocking anddisbelieving.I too was once a victim to another click of a channel. A meal with myfamily while we ate and listened to habituations drowning the wayswe felt passion for the world. Floods, 911, burning buildings – thecorporate wars. Grease drippings from my father’s lips as he spatparticles of chicken, complaining about how expensive taxes are thesedays. I grew up a casualty of ignorance hypnotized by the gentle fuzzof pictures and sounds vibrating their ways into my subconscious.But it’s so bred into me. Neigh shakes of my head work to own myfore, yet still I – with my strong social convictions – catch myselfsuperficial to the ways these women look.I sit now, absorbing countenance ~ disgusted at my actions: Beauteous,angry, young, posed, what brought them there? I know none of itmatters. My essence drains me warm again, picturing the rock lodgedin Marcia’s vagina. She would have been a young twenty-three thisAugust passed.I think about it for a while. How that must be? Those last moments ofbedazzled hysteria? The helplessness and mettle? The core-curdlingdread of remorseless, sadistic confrontation? The last face you seedelighted by the act of killing. Oh no. Am I wrong for imagining thisbrutality? Internalized shame as if a sin in itself?But I think we need to. We need to care when we hear stories of peoplewho ran stop signs and killed our neighbor’s children. To take thosesilent moments of respected memorial. Reserve stages to rememberand wonder. We need to re-sensitize ourselves in ways that guide usto daily wisdoms. Appreciations. For what we have. Not what wedon’t.Children go without food in their bellies. They work in fields of garbagenine to five. Their money earns them rice, barley – whatever they canafford for their family: mother, father, siblings. These children. Justchildren. The ones we protect from the persecutions of bullies whomock them for stains on their shirts. These are all our children. OurVision for the World.FITE 148