A Prose With No Direction

-there is not a world without a war-

I said I was fucking finished.

Finished with obsessing.

Finished with mentioning.

Finished with addressing.

Finished with speaking... 

But I realized, if I said I was finished, I would be putting a tape around the oppressed's mouth and a blindfold around the oppressor's eyes.

The world still struggles to accept the fact that a white and brown egg still cracks open a yolk. 

The world still struggles to accept the fact that rainbows are beautiful and a sign of universal love.

The world still struggles to accept the fact that there's a difference between extinguishing a fire and fueling it into an inferno.

But that is not what I will be addressing. 

At least not yet.

This country is in a mess right now, dead bodies of black cats hanging on trees in the south, rainbows being stripped of its prideful colors, pandas that are being persecuted for contaminating the public, and an administration of useless turkeys with its leader being a buffoon of a hippo happily fueling his uncontrollable bonfire his guard dog so wonderfully started just so the stupid, little hippo can roast his marshmallows. 

This fucking country is a mess.

And because it is such a fucking mess, no one bothers to listen to the cries of another country, a country torn apart by a civil war for years and now faces the worst humanitarian crises this abused and misused world has ever seen.

Children, skinny, hungry, sickly, and frail, lie naked on a thin piece of cloth on a dirty and dusty ground, crying, squealing, holding onto their helpless mothers who can't do anything but pray and cry. 

Mothers, skinny, crying, helpless, and powerless, sit with their dying children, holding their skinny arms and rubbing their enlarged bellies as they pray the God above to either keep their children alive or have them live a better life. 

Fathers, skinny, frustrated, weak, and lost, stand with their wives and children, holding them, squeezing them, protecting them the best they can with their skinny arms and manly pride, hoping, praying, that the cries of their wives, the squeals of their children, and the begging of their voices will reach its neighboring countries and the countries from all the directions of the world. 

Praying, wishing, begging that they will answer their pleas.

But like them, the world is preoccupied. The world is sick. The world is dying. It's dying yet reopening.

While the men, women, and children in Yemen starve to death, in need of a billion's worth of dollars to give the millions of people living and dying there a meal to eat and the care they need, this nation focuses on the fact that theaters and beaches are now reopening. 

There is more privilege in this world than we know it.

There's the white privilege. 

And then there's also the economic privilege.

Why should millions of people starve in a ruined country while a fat man orders more than he can eat and then throws it away?

Why should millions of people race and push each other to get to the water truck to fill their water buckets while children complain about finishing their glasses of water and then throwing it down the drain?

Why should millions of people have the anxiety and fear of not being able to see the next day or their children not being able to reopen their eyes in the morning while teenagers post shirtless posts and get depressed when the post hasn't reached a hundred likes? 

Why should our brothers and sisters living in a different country suffer this kind of monstrosity?

This cruelty?

This inhumanity?

This inequality?

This horrible injustice.

While we live our lives here, spending our summer away at beaches in our bikinis and trunks, the same people our age spend their hot summer looking for something eat.

Why isn't this getting attention?

Why isn't anyone helping?

Why are all the powerful nations with an abundance of resources suddenly powerless and without the means to assist their fellow siblings in the African continent? 

Why is that when someone calls for action, no one bothers to raise a finger.

Just like when a teacher asks a question and no one raises their hand to answer it, Yemen is asking us, "Where is everyone in our time in need?"

And what do we reply?

We tie a blindfold around our eyes and turn the other way.

Something needs to happen.

And it needs to happen now.

Before a whole country and a whole race disappears from the map of the world and the minds of those that live in it.

One step is to get coverage on this, to spread the message, to make this crisis known and urgent.

But why is nobody taking that Goddamn step?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

There is no world without a war. This world has seen so many wars throughout its four billion years that it doesn't even know what to do or how to react anymore.

A few months ago, we were at war with a disease.

Who am I kidding, we're still at war with it.

A few weeks ago, we were at war for the equality of races.

Who am I kidding, we have and still are at war with it.

And now we are at war with a concept called hunger that is as dangerous as a missile, threatening the lives of an entire race and culture.

Oh, who am I bullshitting?

We have always been at war with hunger since the development of a blood-stained currency that divides the rich and the poor, the lucky and the unlucky, the living and the dying. 

There is not a world without a war.

And we are fighting multiple wars now, people.

But just because we're fighting in one, doesn't mean we stop fighting in the other.