fictions

by howaretheyfor

She asks, “things do a certain thing, dust settles and water flows. What do I do?” And I,  standing over her my face a great sail catching the wind we being blown over the earth, “you try not to fall.” A pause for new quotation marks:  “you do not realize it but your eyes are great lights and everywhere they look they leave behind them light. And your ears are great fertile caves and everything you hear is a seed within them. And your fingers are —

Today I taught teachers and I asked, “Do the ends justify the means?,” and they asked, “Why did America choose to hate the Arab world?,” and I asked, “Why were the twin towers attacked?,” and they asked, “What if they killed your family?,” and I said, “I don’t know,” and they asked, “Why don’t they leave us alone?,” and I said, “I don’t know.”

I am realizing for the first time in my life how great a man Gandhi was. Violence begets violence, it’s so simple. If you are attacked and you attack back, you begin a discourse of violence. But if you choose not to hit back and to wait in silence for further blows, … either they will stop bloody fisted tears in their eyes or… there will be nothing left of you… But it just feels so right to kill, to attack, to violence. I, faced with the knowing and seeing of this place and other places, the wall and its consequences, I hate and anger and violence. I violence. A part of me asks, “who do I kill, give me his picture, and give me my gun, and show me his home, and the ends justify the means”

He walked until the earth became brittle, until the night’s stars became no longer dots as we see them but each a thin string that falls just higher than as high as you can jump and the wind does not touch these starstrings but it sings on them and with eyes closed the sound of the earth breaking under him and the wind blowing through the stars above him he went forgotten.

 

 

 

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