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The light of this earth are the children; the chosen people are EVERY HUMAN BEING sharing the same timeline.
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Compassion is the lesson from the Holocaust; for every human being.
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I'm about to go to bed, forcing myself to sleep. The first image I have when I open my eyes is of some child I have never met, a child that has been murdered in Palestine. The last thought at night is of some unknown dead Palestinian;
it is the same anguish I felt when I was 9 years old and learned about the Holocaust; the anguish of not understanding how German society could be so cruel.
I had shot down my computer and had to put it back on again to bear witness, to place here the face that came upon my mind as I set my bed;
A child that went to sleep and woke up with an explosion that you israelis conjured; her father gone; her mother gone; her sister gone; her brother gone; her cousins gone. Her home gone.
She walked to her bed as you and I and the entire world did and woke up missing family and limb; one of the israeli children pressed a button and launched a missile that changed her life in an instant.
She survived that attack and woke up without her family and missing a leg, but her spirit pushed her forward, and she made plans to become a doctor;
"to help others," she said hopefully.
Then, one of your children pushed another button and conjured another missile that found her in bed, sleeping, AT A HOSPITAL.
She didn't survive that.
And I am 58 years old, anguished and unable to understand how can the israeli society be so cruel. So vicious. So inhuman. So unjewish like.
I'm going to press the publish button and try to sleep, and her memory will be with me until I do:
The memory of her lying there in bed, crying for her family, trying to find hope for a new beginning, or as she stated,
"My life is changing now."
But to change, you need to be alive. So I will try thinking of that instead: that there might be hope for the Israelis, the Germans, the Americans, the British, and all the people tonight engaged in hurting others.
To change, you need to be alive so there might be hope for your genocidal society.
Perhaps, one of these days, you israelis will get tired of killing and hurting and raping and torturing and conjuring up ghosts in your backyard.
It will make itself heard, the echo of the bombs, the agonizing screams of the children in Palestine; Palestine is the name of the land taken by the zionists, the land torched by the Zionists. They renamed the land and prohibited the people of that land from saying or stating their own names.
The Jews recognized the evil among them and were quick to name it Zionism to make sure the rest of the world didn't ostracize them again. For thousands of years, Jewish people were persecuted by others in this world, the others that are unable to accept the differences that constitute our humanity and were not smart enough to comprehend it to be a virtue.
I remember meeting the Jews in New York City when I arrived from Brazil. An orphan understands the things that bind humans together, having grown up without them. The Jews I met were family-oriented, hardworking, industrious, and, above all, generous. Perhaps I romanticized most of them, but I watched as they made themselves seen in the community by donating to the arts and to associations that help others, the human beings who don't have the same ability to prosper.
The Germans recognized that too, and chose the only path a weak society can take when it realizes that it has failed: blame others and begin killing them to dispose of the reminder of its own failures. In killing millions of Jews, the German society absolved itself from all its economic and political inaptitudes. And Nazi Germany will never be forgotten.
The United States of America and the United Kingdom government, too, looked in the mirror at their true reflection and, just like the Jewish people, immediately understood the Zionists for what they were: evil. And kindred spirits. Bloodthirsty and land-grabbing zombies.
While people are confused by the unwavering support Israel gets from its allies, I look at history and hear it loud and clear:
the bombs, the agonizing screams of the innocent Jewish people killed by the terrorist state of Germany. I recognize the israelis for what they are: a proxy of imperialist powers to do the killings in their names.
In the Israelis, the Western countries found the perfect partners; Israelis not only are good at killing, but they actually enjoy it. They learned with their papa, Hihi.
As the entire world streams the carnage in Palestine, history absorbs the sound each bomb makes, each child in agonizing pain, each whimper of a starved body collapsing into itself. Dying of starvation.
History does not whisper. It will echo the genocidal Israelis, the Germans, the Americans, the British, and the deaf and dumb in our society until men take their last breath on this earth.
"My mother was a martyred?"
"My father was a martyred?"
"My brother was martyred?"
"My nephew was martyred?"
"My sister was martyred?"
"We are exhausted!"
"Why can't you feel for us?"
