Making Noise

The day before yesterday was the 17th anniversary of the 9/11 tragedy. I spent most of the day seeing, and then ignoring, related posts of people remembering where they were that day, what they were doing, who they lost. It has become a yearly thing now. I said I was ignoring the posts after a while, not due to a sense of annoyance or to diminish people’s grief – the thing is that so many countries experienced so many such tragedies over time, that highlighting only one of them starts to feel kind of obnoxious after a while.

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Let me explain – yes 9/11 was monstrous. It was mostly monstrous not because people died (though that was awful of course) but because it was a willful act of hate and destruction, aimed at one country, but resonating throughout humanity. Unfortunately, throughout human history, there have been many others like it, such as the Holocaust, the repeated terrorist attacks in France, the terrorist attacks in the UK, in Brussels, and in many other places, many of which left people dead and injured, not just physically, but also emotionally and physically. They left whole countries scarred, a whole people in fear and loathing for their fellow man. 

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All of these events were serious and should not be forgotten. Ever. And yet, it seems like no matter how many atrocities take place, no matter how much humanity is shown the cruel face of its darkest side, no matter how many times we stumble, we get up again, brush our knees from the dust and the blood, and move on again towards the light. Or we try to anyways.

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Thing is, sometimes it seems to me as though the 9/11 tragedy is given much more prominence than all the others. Why? Is it more important? Is that because it happened in the US? Because it was the sign of something which the other tragedies lack? Because we felt it more? Or is it… because the US simply made more of a fuss about it? I say this in a good way, because such tragedies SHOULD be made a fuss of. No, we should not remain silent and take it. We should not forget or let ‘bygones be bygones’. So, why are some tragedies less talked about than others?

In this world, no one stands up and listens to you unless you make yourself heard. No one will take their time to pay attention to you unless you attract their attention and tell them that you have something important to communicate. No one will take notice, if you don’t make noise, if you don’t scream, yell, cry, shriek, and make a ruckus. No one will give something importance, if you yourself don’t show that it is important to you.

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And so, yes, write, talk, scream, make a fuss, throw a tantrum. Some things are worth making a scene about.

The Weaver of Tapestries

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The darkness faded long ago
the shards have healed, the soul has eased
and yet somehow, at times my mind strays
asking why’s, looking for might-have-been’s

Do you ever think of me?
Telling everyone I was the cause, I was the pain
did you really suffer, were you grieved
were there a million pieces of you, like there were of me?

Excuses, excuses
Anything to use worn beds
tattered into incredulity
even after the passage of time

Yet, you spin the old mantra
of lies couched in sweat and sniggers
corruptible spasms in a sea of disruption
Fanciful cocktails of blood and music

Beneath freckled claws, under wide eyes
do you really believe what you say?
Does the villain always see a hero in the mirror
or does he open his eyes sometimes?

Clutching spheres of crystals and tears
sucking in derailed hearts
No – I will not forget. I do not want to.
Frosty-eyed I clutch at the withering storm

Dark stars falling on fluttering eyelids
nails scraping at the brittle grime
Still here. I am still here.
Bereft, but whole.