The Park Across the Street

Photo by Matt Brown on Unsplash

Occasionally I open the blinds
and just look out my apartment window. 

There's a park across the street. 

I see families spending time together;
children playing at the playground;
people walking their dogs;
and I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. 

This is the closest to the American Dream I'll ever be. 

At the exact same time
I'm overcome with sorrow. 

I can't help but think of the horrors unfolding at this very moment. 

Families torn to shreds;
parents buried under rubble;
children mutilated;
in numbers too vast to comprehend. 

The images of genocide are seared into my brain. 

It's easy to become distracted
by the hum of everyday life. 

"That's so sad," we say as we worry about our own problems. 

The power bill is due;
groceries are so expensive lately;
the check engine light is on again;
we owe the daycare how much?

And the sorrow gets shoved into the recesses of our minds. 

Against my instincts
I force myself to feel that sorrow.

I let it wash over me;
I breathe it in; 
I feel it deeply;
and I sit in that discomfort. 

All while my neighborhood is as safe and wholesome as ever. 

And I ask myself
an unbearable question.

What would I do if it were my family?

My friends;
my acquaintances;
my community;
and there was no end in sight?

I pray to God that I wouldn't do anything too drastic. 

"War is hell"
they like to say. 

But this is not war in the conventional sense. 

This is a slaughter;
a brutal massacre;
an obvious genocide;
against a trapped civilian population. 

And it's taking place right before our eyes. 

What can we do
if anything at all?

We can refuse to look away from what we're seeing. 

We can focus on it;
pay close attention to it;
watch intently;
as the mayhem continues. 

It is literally the least we can do. 

And so I think about it
as I stare out my window. 

The park is still buzzing with life. 

Life that is just as precious,
just as cherished,
just as important,
as the lives of the people being murdered right now. 

We owe it to them to be aware of their suffering. 

One day perhaps
things will be different.

Maybe the whole world will be like the park across the street someday. 

Until then I feel that sorrow;
I sit in that discomfort;
I watch the atrocities take place;
out of a sense of obligation.

If it's all I can do then that's what I'll do.  

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