Go Into The Light

Happy Hanukkah to my friends who celebrate this.

We finished Diwali recently, another festival of light. These two religions both have sacred days to acknowledge the Light.

Leonard Cohen says the crack is where the light gets in.

We are cracked and wounded in this world now. Whether you want to go full on mourning, if you are like me, this darkness gets you down. I start to see the darkness everywhere around, but most of all within me. I see my petty angels and feel my temper.

Remember that the Solstice is coming, which means these dark days will gradually get lighter. Literally and metaphorically.

Canada voted yesterday at the UN for a ceasefire. Should I feel proud that it only took the slaughter of 18,000 people, a majority of which are women and children for them to find a heart, a conscience?

Should I be more ashamed that the US continues to not only back the genocide, but is actively profiting from this war? The blood on Israel’s hands is also on the US. They are soaking in it.

Pablo Neruda said in his poem I want to explain a few things:

And then one morning everything was burning
And then one morning the bonfires
Erupted from the ground
And devoured people,
And from then on fire,
Dust from then on,
And from then on blood.
Bandids with aircraft and Moors in them,
Bandids with fancy rings and duchesses,
Bandids along with black friars bestowing blessings
Came through the sky to kill children
And through the streets the blood of children
Flowed quite simple, just like the blood of children.

Jackals that the jackals would reject,
Stones that the dry thistle would spit out as it bites,
Vipers that vipers would hate!
Before your eyes I have seen the blood
Of Spain rise up.
To drown you in a single wave
Of pride and knives!

Generals
Traitors:
Look at my dead house,
Look at Spain now broken:
But from every dead house metal will come out burning,
Instead of flowers,
But from every hollow of Spain
Spain will come out,
But from every dead child a gun with eyes will come out,
But from every crime bullets will be born
That one day will find where your heart is.
You will ask why does his poetry
Not speak to us of dream, of leaves,
Of the great volcanoes of his native country?
Come and see the blood on the streets,
Come and see
The blood on the streets,
Come and see the blood
On the streets.

Translation by: John Smith

Came through the sky to kill children
And through the streets the blood of children Flowed quite simple, just like the blood of children.

So I welcome the light. I am tired of the darkness and death. I am exhausted by the smallness of hearts and minds. The genocide of children to satisfy the bloodlust of old men.

We can do better and be better than this. We have to be. We really have to be better. Now.