Train Of Thought: Delayed

Friday Seems Like An Age Away

Tough week, tough days and nights. I know but we'll get through this.

The on going struggle of having to get out of bed in the morning when giving up seems like bliss, to just allow myself to sink back under my duvet and hide away from the world rather than get up and face its ever looming darkness.

Friday is the day though, the easiest out of the week, with the promise of a sleep in the next day and no responsibilities I'm up a rearing to get it over with.

I still do though, I still wake up everyday even Friday's, I still am able to stand myself up out of bed and get myself dressed as I browse my options for breakfast in my head, will it be toast or cereal?

I woke up one Friday and left for school, got dropped off early to do homework and hung around late for a training. As I called it a day and my time came to head home I was informed of the terror that had unfolded 4 hours ago in my country, 20 dead and the numbers still rising.

I hung my head slightly, face blank in shock. No not in my country, not the country that I feel safe a secure in, not my country that is most sheltered from the nasty horrible acts of the world, not my homeland and people.

I'd never seen a sadder sunset before, closing off a day everyone would rather never broke, I watched a sight some would never get to witness again. Death toll now close to 40, and oh lord still rising.

Woken the next day early, no sleep in for me I've got to be moving, responsibility calls on me again, but it's Saturday I protest as the world quits listening. I stayed as far away from any news source as I could that day, preferring to talk about nonsense than admit to something like this happening, knowing that it wasn't the last time hearing about it but beer wanting to again.

The toll got up to 49 that evening, one of the largest scale of mass murder in the world, I felt sick. I was saddened and yet angered at what kind of human could be capable of even planning such a thing.

Two days after and the figure is at 51, I learn about the fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, cousins, daughters and sons that were killed, the grandfather that welcomed the vile thing in arms open, I learn that one victim was only 3. I read their stories learn about their lives and shake my head in shame that the country most of them chose to move to so they could better their lives, the country I was born, failed to deliver their dream of that better life.

But I still have that privilege, waking up to the light of the sun or to watch the sunrise, the sign of a new day. A day I get to live by my own will, one extra day to mark my life on this earth. One more day than those who have theirs stolen from them in the ringing of gunshots, innocent unknowing and unarmed people who had come to pray and give thanks for their life, lying there cold and unmoving, hearts still and eyes unblinking.

"Hello Brother" the evil was invited in, you are one of us those words say, spoken by a voice never to be heard again.

I'm sorry but the bubble is popped now, the gunman said it himself no one is safe. That was the point his was proving and he did a pretty good job at it.

What happened to the world I once knew, the world where there were no bomb threats and gunmen.

It seems like an age away.

Kia Kaha