A MOURNFUL MOOD THIS MORNING
by teresa simon-noble
Reprinted in full courtesy of the author
I listen to Frederick Chopin's music this morning. His music is calming. It is a brook for the soul in the midst of a parched land. I am thankful that I can listen to it from the comfort of my home, not having to worry about bombs falling from the sky landing on my roof or my back yard to snuff out my oxygen of life. Life is normal for me and my neighbors. We have much to be thankful for-for one we are not living in a state of siege. Well, not munitions siege. We do live in the state of the terror perpetrated by Bush's siege on our emotions and our democracy. So far we are safe from his bullets and munitions, but or from his fear planting, war mongering verbiage.
Yet, my thoughts drift out to the Middle East. To those who die in each of the regions there. Whether Iraq, Lebanon, Syria, Israel.
My thoughts drift out to those under siege by the firepower of bombs, rockets, missiles, gunship-deadly force of any kind raining in on any of the warring sides. Armaments built to kill life and line the pockets of the military/industrial complex men and women with money.
With the serene notes of the Chopin music playing inside my house, I wonder who soothes the dying of those who are dying in this war? Who holds them in their arms or hold their hands as they exhale their last breath? Who or what becomes the balm for their spirits and broken bodies as they breathe their last breath? Who reads to them their favorite poem, or plays for them their favorite music as they die, like the Kennedy children did for their mother, Jackie O. as she lay dying of natural causes in her home in New York City a few years back, or like my friend, visiting her dying husband in a hospice, encouraged by the nurse there to keep stroking his hands while he took his last breath.
I forget. This is war. They have no one to read to them their favorite poems as they die. They have no one to hold their hands, or play their favorite music. They have the wailing of the wounded, the screams of pain, the gnashing of teeth, the darkness of crumbled buildings toppled on them as they lay there, dying.
Do they die in the blink of an eye? Do they linger and suffer while the blood drains out of their bodies? Do they die with the hope of a bright tomorrow still burning inside of them? Do they die angry, hating the American built bombs, or the American military, or the Israeli Army, or Hezbollah, or Hamas-those responsible for raining the bombs down on them?
Do they have a chance to make peace with God, or Allah, or with their Higher Power?
And what, or who, brings comfort to the living who face the empties, the empties of dead loved ones no longer there to share life with them, to comfort them, to bring them food, or presents, or flowers, or candy, or chocolates, or water? Who cares for them in their bombed out homes and streets? Do they have shelter when they are cold, or when they are hot? How do they manage without water supplies, electric lights, food, roads to take them out of hell? Where, and in whom do their human souls find comfort and comforting?
As I sit listening to Chopin in the comfort of my home, in the knowledge that today I will not be bombed, in the hope that tomorrow I won't be bombed either, I continue to think about the dead and dying. I think of the Bush created vast ocean of blood. I think of the seed of violence, blood, war and occupation that he has planted in the world.
Does he know, does he even realize the extent of his Kingdom of Blood?
When entire families are killed in one household does Bush grieve for them? Does the world? Is it just up to their surviving family, friends, neighbors and loved ones to grieve for them?
I think also of those pets-goats, dogs, cats, cows, caught in man's miserable game of, "Who has the upper hand? Our Bombs Will Tell." Innocent little creatures slaughtered in man's thirst for conquest and blood.
Can Bush, or Condoleezza Rice look at themselves in the mirror? Can Ehud Olmert? How can the Syrians, the Lebanese, and the Palestinians equally look at themselves in the mirror? Can anyone who lends himself to increased violence look in the mirror?
Perhaps they can't. Who knows? But they surely don't want us to look at the dead.
George Bush certainly doesn't want us to look at the dead. Our television screens show us the bombs falling, the roads, and the buildings on these roads, destroyed. We think we are in a 1950s war movies cheering for the good guys: those whose side we happen to be on.
We are not in a movie theater. The world is not a movie screen, foreign policy is not a play, and ordinary, every day human beings caught up in this fracas are not actors.
Perhaps for Bush the world is a movie screen where he can play act whatever scene his idealization of war directs him to play.
Is it the same for Condoleezza Rice, the child of a military man who learned how to play the piano but seems not to understand the peaceful brooks in the Chopin music? Perhaps she has a greater grip for the reality of death in the Middle East than Bush does (as indicated by her refusal to travel to the Middle East at this time-perhaps her refusal to go indicates a casual fear that a casual bomb might explode around the neighborhood she might be staying in).
In a CANTINFLISMO (translation: BUSHISMO) of her own, the Secretary of State, stated during a press conference with the Foreign Minister of Egypt, Ahmed Aboul Gheit, "I am pleased to initiate the strategic dialogue between the United States and Egypt. The relationship between both is a strategic relationship and it is a lasting-long-lasting relationship." While Minister Gheit advocated for a cease-fire in the Middle East, Condoleezza Rice was adamant that she would not call for a cease-fire if it meant, "maintaining the status-quo", because she would not work for peace at the expense of democracy. As long as it is not her doing the dying, and as long as she doesn't have to go into the region, let the bombs rain on! Democracy as defined by the Bushes becomes more important than human lives.
(It all sounded so Mario Moreno-ish to me,
"Ah! but let me make one thing clear, I have moments of lucidity, and I speak very clearly. And now I will speak with clarity...Friends! There are moments in my life that are really momentary...And it's not because one says it, but we must see it! What do we see? that's what we must see...because , what a coincidence, friends, that supposing that in the case-let's not say what it could be-but we must think about it and understand the psychology of life to make an analogy of the synthesis of humanity. Right? Well, that's the point!"
He would say in perfect CANTINFLISMO...this icon of the Mexican movies of the 1940s and 50s and beyond...this PASSPORTOU of AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS of the 1960s.)
Chopin knew pain. He knew war. He knew the pain of separation from loved ones and from country. His life was touched by pain. So was his soul. His music speaks to it. It is a search for peace. His compositions are a balm in the midst of chaos.
George and Barbara Bush must have known that their son is a man incapable of running the country, or of seeding peace in the world. They must have known that this child of theirs, born into their idealization of the military/industrial complex, would run the world into a war. Surely that must be the reason why this encapsulated their son's power grab of the oval office in the protective armor of GHWB's own cabinet members. Most probably in their eyes, surrounding George with Colin Powell, Condoleezza Rice, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld and that long cast of characters would make their son's puppet-chair at the oval office look good.
How narcissistic of them! What a pity for the rest of the world that we have to experience the Bush narcissism.
What a different kind of soul beats in George and in the rest of the Bushes than the one which beat in Chopin, or in Denise Levertov, or in any of those points of light that heaven is sometimes good enough to gift the world with.
George and Barbara, nevertheless, having the power to do so, pushed their progeny on to the world stage, "I promise you this son of mine will not disappoint you", George Herbert Walker Bush bleated into a microphone from a podium at some event being broadcast by CNN in the run-up to the election 2000 from hell, as he peddled lies for his son's sake.
George and Barbara knew they could not honestly sell George's virtues to the American electorate. There were none to be sold honestly. They hired Karl Rove and put him up to the task of figuring out a way to destroy Al Gore while selling Junior's made-up, idealized image, off to the American electorate. Just like they had hired Lee Atwater in l988 to destroy Dukakis and sell GHWB to the American electorate.
The corporate media got in bed with George and Barbara. They spread the lies along.
They are still doing that. They hide the dead. They hide the blood. They hide the CANTINFLISMOS along with the BUSHISMOS. They hide the lies and the incompetence of the Bush world.
The world today needs someone who can know and understand pain. Someone who can bring healing to the destruction and chaos created by the Bushes. The world needs a Point of Light. We need a Gandhi, a Martin Luther King, Jr., and a John F. Kennedy. We need to stop the bombings. We need to stop the wars. We need to grieve. We need to hurt, and we need to begin a Dialogue.
Perhaps the next time we are called to elect a politician to office we might apply this rule of thumb: No matter how much a politician bleats out what his virtues are into a microphone, we must remember that his actions speak ever more thunderously louder than his words.
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Teresa Simon-Noble is a computer activist for peace. She is a former mental health clinician. A poet and a freelance writer. Her work has been published in several online publications.
http://www.opednews.com/articles/opedne_teresa_s_060722_a_mournful_mood_this.htm
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