comment on an FB post

“Whatʻs on your mind” ~the alleged kat

Write a comment . . .
i hope you donʻt mind if i comment here, 
i suppose this is “post-bombing”, 
a post-bombing equivalent of
“photo-bombing”
your post-bombing post, 
no pun intended
(well, the whole word bomb is so casually tossed around by everyone, from 
presidents to pundits to 
wanne-be poets like me, 
i mean wth, i want in on the fun too) — 
but we donʻt seem to be post-bombing yet (we canʻt even do a good post-modern, post-racist, post-structuralist post-sexist), 
and i donʻt know if we ever will be.

Because, we only seem to be 
aware of or care about what happens to us, to those “like” 
us — “christian”, “capitalist”, “democratic”, euro-norte-american nations and nationals. 
When disasters hit, we are indignant, shocked, heartbroken, angry, scared, 
motivated to say
and do things. (iʻm little different — i mean, how come i only am writing this now?).

But the reality 
is that there are people who live, love, laugh, cry, and die everyday, 
trying to find food for themselves, their children, their parents, try to find shoes, a shelter, who 
live 
with the violence of dogma and ideology day in and day out, who
hear 
guns firing every night, who 
wake 
to the scream of jets bombing, 
the explosions of drone-fired missiles, 
the blasts of ieds and suicide bombs. such is 
THEIR reality — 
not their turn-on-the-computer-and-log-in-to-FB-at-free-wifi-sbuk-changed-their-cupswtf-morning-coffee. 
Their pains and losses, their hopes and dreams seem to be little more than footnotes in our hashtag politicaldiatribeofthedayfeedburn, 
because they arenʻt “like us”.

Somehow, we all became Charlie Hebdo, and we all will become Paris, London, Stockholm . . .
because we are.

But we also are some nameless villager in some nameless village in 
Afghanistan, or 
Yemen, or 
Lebanon, or
Syria, or
Iraq,
who is cradling her 
son
father
loverʻs 
carcass, bleeding from the hole that once was his foot kicking a futbol, or
her smile as cool rain fell, or 
her tears as he lay their child,
bleeding, in a rough hole in the ground, 
their lives 
exploded apart
by smart bombs
and dumb bombs 
and suicide bombs 
and stupid bombs
of fear, hate, ignorance, greed, indifference, religious, and political self-righteousness.

But how many of us realize that we are. 
we are all of them.

thanks for noticing.
them. 
us.

youʻre
da
bomb