The church clock struck again. We’d waited more than an hour.
“Why’s this taking so long?”, said Ma wearily .
“It’s ok”, I replied, knowing the question was rhetorical.
Ma was still guilty about the explosion that left me blind since I was five. It was May Day and the village was celebrating. Da left his cigarette burning while he stepped outside to watch. Pretending I was a grown up, puffing on it, I choked so hard I dropped it near the gas stove. I don’t remember much else until I woke in the hospital.
Since then Ma has taken me to every faith healer that she could find.
Each time I say “For how can I be sure I shall see again?”
“The world on the first of May will be brighter that day because you’ll be able to see it.” she replies.
The politics of yet another day
Causing a stir amongst the masses
Spirited conversations ignite
One voice louder than the next
A proverbial battle of the classes
A line is drawn in the sand
That no one dares to cross
You fear for your life
Silence might be best
Your beliefs your albatross
Tantamount to a civil car
The rebellious versus the righteous
Neither side knows what they don’t know
A verbal conflict louder and longer
The winner being the most pious
Blind faith of the minority
And an archaic amendment
Gifted us with what we have today
Fractured here and broken there
Drowning us in a pool of resentment
Knocking down our allies
With scornful and outrageous demands
When the anti truth becomes your facts
You are making enemies of your people
Whose dilemmas you will never understand
An association doomed for failure
A reflection on our society’s blindness
The moral compass conveniently cast aside
In favor of the inflated ego
Observing the decline of social responsibility
Where self-serving trumps kindness
Those paying homage to the narcissistic god
From his shirttails they will unhitch
When their stipend shows no relief
Their sum of all fears will be balanced
By Karma who will prove to be a Bitch