#tragedy
any suggestions for places to post where this will be seen?
and, Please #Share!
#fiction
not fallen
https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/t2681
https://yprophecies.wordpress.com/2023/09/03/not-fallen/
Pushing, always about pushing.
Pushing his weight off me too late,
exhausted, spent, his rage into me,
breaking, bruising, pain and shame
and devastation.
Him, a sudden force, pushing me into that
alley, so near my home I had no thought
of danger. So routine, my walk from the
subway after my work day, even though, late
Fall, well past twilight. I expected just another
evening of my uneventful life since I came to
this city to pursue my career.
I didn’t know the attacker who pushed me
from behind, covered my face with a huge,
hard hand so I wouldn’t scream, or see him,
too close to count on darkness. After,
released to drag myself home, I drank
sloppy mugs of red wine and cried, on my
way to blessed unconsciousness.
The morning alarm brought me back, to
understand my desperate need for
normalcy to push this whole melodramatic
mess out, out, out! Keep moving, one foot
at a time, eyes forward, focused on each
next chore. Somehow my face, my body,
lied for me, kept to my habitual script.
I very much didn’t want to talk about it,
to seek comforting or support. I wanted it
to go away — to never be.
I found a new route home, discovered
along it that I had become hypervigilant
while walking alone through city streets.
This city of strangers that I had hoped
would be my home had become a hostile
place to push away in self defense.
Pushed into an unwanted future where
the test comes up “Pregnant” after those
ugly symptoms could no longer be ignored.
Pushed now to find a way to take care
of my needs, to confront politics, that
whole divisive headache I had believed
not part of my life.
Suddenly I’ve become a victim of
multiple powerful men — the power
of physical force and the power of
unjust law pushed through by cynical,
deceitful misogynists using pumped
up hate to get ahead.
Much as I desperately try to normalize
these agonizing days, weeks, this
nightmare escalates. Those nonignorable
symptoms keep getting more and worse.
Pushed to accept, take in, this unacceptable
situation because these symptoms
seem serious. I have heard of high risk
pregnancies that require constant
monitoring, even sometimes termination
to save the vessel for future use. Surely I
would not be forced to continue having
this thing growing in me if it would kill me.
Barely holding my multiply suffering
body and mind together, I push myself
to take control and get to the closest ER.
Look! I yell into me, trying to center,
to find refuge in rationality. I am a
normal person, leading a narrow,
normal life. These health crisis
professionals will know what to do,
will make everything alright!
I have made it to what I have built up
in my anxious imagination as the blessed
temple of healing. Unfortunately, it is
more like Purgatory — the endless
waiting. I do understand the many more
needy of immediate care. I submerge
my fear and pain in silent singing, measured
breathing, hearing again my father’s wrath
when he had been drinking or sometimes
when he hadn’t but was feeling bitter honestly.
Family, memories, never consoling.
Certainly no one I can call for help or advice
or anything but judgement of an unkind kin.
I had been so happy to get so far away, to
reframe my life to be mine, hopeful with possibilities.
Yes, possibilities unanticipated. So many
sick days out, fallen (failing) performance,
there goes my once so bright, golden
promising job and its perks, like health insurance.
Pushed to realize my life is meaningless
beyond my private sphere. Now I understand
that my fragile forming friendships here are
far from strong enough to be burdened with
what has become my Truth.
At long last it is my turn to be seen. I have
become so weak, barely aware of being
lifted onto a gurney, hooked up to a fetal
monitor and IV, prodded, needle poked to
take my blood. The hands and voices are
concerned that the baby is in distress.
“Take it out of me!” I scream, crying snot
and tears and fear and rage. They inject a
fluid to induce labor, ready me to push
at their command.
Finally! It’s out, my nemesis expelled,
pushed from its unwelcome lodging.
I feel only pure exhaustion, running blood.
Fading, I hear from above:
“Yay! We saved the baby.”
Apparently too far gone for further
ministration, I am left with
the agony of life falling out of me. Faintly,
plaintively, I hear a sober retort:
“Yes, we saved this child to live, while it
does, with severe health issues requiring
extensive expensive care. It enters this
tragic life alone, parentless. Who will take
on this responsibility?
Letting the mother choose, to have the
chance to live, maybe have future healthy
children, would have been responsible, and humane.”
#shortstory #women #rights #responsibility #tragedy #metoo #politics #herstory #health #violence
any suggestions for places to post where this will be seen?
and, Please Share!
not fallen #fiction
https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/t2681
Pushing, always about pushing.
Pushing his weight off me too late,
exhausted, spent, his rage into me,
breaking, bruising, pain and shame and devastation.
Him, a sudden force, pushing me into that alley,
so near my home I had no thought of danger.
So routine, my walk from the subway after my
work day, even though, late Fall, well past twilight.
I expected just another evening of my uneventful life
since I came to this city to pursue my career.
I didn’t know the attacker who pushed me from behind,
covered my face with a huge, hard hand so I wouldn’t
scream, or see him, too close to count on darkness.
After, released to drag myself home, I drank sloppy
mugs of red wine and cried, on my way to blessed
unconsciousness.
The morning alarm brought me back, to understand
my desperate need for normalcy to push this whole
melodramatic mess out, out, out! Keep moving, one
foot at a time, eyes forward, focused on each next chore.
Somehow my face, my body, lied for me, kept to my
habitual script.
I very much didn’t want to talk about it, to seek
comforting or support. I wanted it to go away – to
never be.
I found a new route home, discovered along it that I
had become hypervigilant while walking alone through
city streets. This city of strangers that I had hoped would
be my home had become a hostile place to push away in
self defense.
Pushed into an unwanted future where the test
comes up “Pregnant” after those ugly symptoms
could no longer be ignored.
Pushed now to find a way to take care of my needs,
to confront politics, that whole divisive headache
I had believed not part of my life.
Suddenly I’ve become a victim of multiple powerful
men – the power of physical force and the power of
unjust law pushed through by cynical, deceitful
misogynists using pumped up hate to get ahead.
Much as I desperately try to normalize these agonizing
days, weeks, this nightmare escalates. Those
nonignorable symptoms keep getting more and worse.
Pushed to accept, take in, this unacceptable situation
because these symptoms seem serious. I have heard
of high risk pregnancies that require constant monitoring,
even sometimes termination to save the vessel for future use.
Surely I would not be forced to continue having this thing
growing in me if it would kill me.
Barely holding my multiply suffering body and mind
together, I push myself to take control and get to the
closest ER.
Look! I yell into me, trying to center, to find refuge in
rationality. I am a normal person, leading a narrow, normal
life. These health crisis professionals will know what to do,
will make everything alright!
I have made it to what I have built up in my anxious
imagination as the blessed temple of healing.
Unfortunately, it is more like Purgatory – the endless
waiting. I do understand the many more needy of
immediate care. I submerge my fear and pain in silent
singing, measured breathing, hearing again my father’s wrath
when he had been drinking or sometimes when he hadn’t but
was feeling bitter honestly. Family, memories, never consoling.
Certainly no one I can call for help or advice or anything
but judgement of an unkind kin. I had been so happy to get
so far away, to reframe my life to be mine, hopeful with
possibilities.
Yes, possibilities unanticipated. So many sick days out,
fallen (failing) performance, there goes my once so bright,
golden promising job and its perks, like health insurance.
Pushed to realize my life is meaningless beyond my private
sphere. Now I understand that my fragile forming friendships
here are far from strong enough to be burdened with what has
become my Truth.
At long last it is my turn to be seen. I have become so weak,
barely aware of being lifted onto a gurney, hooked up to a fetal
monitor and IV, prodded, needle poked to take my blood.
The hands and voices are concerned that the baby is in distress.
“Take it out of me!” I scream, crying snot and tears and fear
and rage. They inject a fluid to induce labor, ready me to
push at their command.
Finally! It’s out, my nemesis expelled, pushed from
its unwelcome lodging. I feel only pure
exhaustion, running blood. Fading, I hear from above:
“Yay! We saved the baby.” Apparently too far gone for
further ministration, I am left with the agony of life falling
out of me. Faintly, plaintively I hear a sober retort:
“Yes, we saved this child to live, while it does, with severe
health issues requiring extensive expensive care. It enters
this tragic life alone, parentless. Who will take on this
responsibility? Letting the mother choose, to have the
chance to live, maybe have future healthy children, would
have been responsible, and humane.”
#shortstory #women #rights #responsibility #tragedy #metoo #dangerouspolitics #herstory #health
Religious stupidity has no limit!
Arbain (40th in Arabic) is one of the major events in Sia Islam.
Arbaeen (Arabic: الأربعين, romanized: al-Arba‘īn, lit. 'fortieth'), Chehellom (Persian: چهلم, "the fortieth day") is a Shia religious observance that occurs forty days after the Day of Ashura. It commemorates the martyrdom of Al-Husayn ibn Ali, the grandson of Muhammad, who was martyred on the 10th day of the month of Muharram. Imam Hussain ibn Ali and 71 of his companions were martyred by Ubayd Allah ibn Ziyad's army under the governance of Yazid I in the Battle of Karbala in 61 AH (680 CE).
The lunacy of religious fanatics and even ordinary Shia muslims become a show of madness, self mutilation and self harm in "respect" to the 4th imam of Shia and the son of prophet Muhammad who died (supposedly) with 72 of his supporters in the city of Karbala by the forces of Sunni leadership of Islamic Caliphate who saw themselves as legitimate leaders of the Muslim world and The Shia as the Persian influenced infidels who wanted to put royalty I to Islam in the name of blood based leadership of Shia Imamas.
Ever since I was a kid. I had a love, hate relationship with these events, love because it was an excellent moment to run around and get free food, candy, rose water juice and lemonade while watching the adults hit themselves bloody and cry like toddlers for a man who died over 1300 years ago. A man who probably hated Iran and Iranians as much as the rest of those barbarian Arab invaders and wouldn't have hesitated to slaughter Iranians ISIS style in the name of spreading their religion of peace.
This year, over 600k Iranians have signed up to visit Karbala, with over 100k bellow the age of 18. Each of them going to spend a significant amount of money for travel and food among other things while millions in Iran living bellow the line of poverty, young boys and girls live on the streets, being physically and sexually abused by older men (many of them true believers) and drug addiction is at astronomical level in the country.
On top of everything, Iran is seeing a new form of desperation, dumping the older family members, the sick and mentally ill in the parks, under bridges and in some cases even murder. Something that was unheard of (or extremely rare) in the days before the revolution that promised us to create a classless and just Islamic government where fuel, electricity and rent would be free and each citizen would receive a portion of the sale of oil and natural gas.
Instead over 8 million Iranians are in exile, some 30 millions can't afford 3xneala a day and 1000a commit suicide every month where they no longer can live under such conditions and even worse, the number of murder suicide has increased to a level that the IRI media is no longer reporting them.
#Iran #Religion #Shia #Ashura #Iraq #Karbala #Arbaeein #Idiocracy #Poverry #Tragedy
PS. Image of a caravan of religious believers walking from southern Iran towards central Iraq to "celebrate" Imam Hussein's martyrdom some 1400 years ago.
The wok of Obama and Hillary: Twenty-Seven Migrants Found Dead in Libyan Desert
The crisis began at the beginning of July, when at least 1,200 migrants and asylum seekers of sub-Saharan origin were detained in mass raids in the city of Sfax, the main starting point of the migratory route by sea, and expelled to border areas, also with neighboring #Algeria.
Libyan authorities found 27 bodies of migrants dead since the beginning of the migration crisis in July.
Since July, there has been an increase in the flow of migrants arriving in #Libya from #Tunisia. The Libyan National Human Rights Committee believes that many of the migrants arriving at its borders from the neighboring country may have been forcibly expelled, forcing them to spend days in the desert without any possibility of survival.
30 refugees missing after their boat capsized off the coast of Italy.
This is yet another tragedy that the world will ignore.
#DeathAtSea #italy #refugees #politics #indifference #tragedy
حدود ۳۰ مهاجر در آبهای ایتالیا مفقود شدند
🔸 رسانههای ایتالیایی امروز (یکشنبه) گزارش دادند که حدود ۳۰ مهاجر پس از غرق شدن ۲ قایق در جنوب جزیره «لامپدوسا» در آبهای این کشور مفقود شدهاند.
U.N. Says Nearly 300 Migrant Children Have Drowned in Mediterranean Crossings This Year
#UNICEF said Friday at least 289 #migrant #children drowned while trying to reach #Europe so far this year — around twice as many as in the first six months of 2022. Over 11,000 children have made the treacherous journey across the Mediterranean since the start of the year, according to the U.N. agency. Many of them were either unaccompanied or separated from family. A UNICEF official called for better protections for young asylum seekers, lamenting, “Hundreds of girls and boys are drowning in the world’s inaction.”
The forgotten victim of decade long "war on terror"!
While the whole world is getting a hard on talking about the danger of Russia and how much money each country has to spent to protect us from the "Russians who are coming for our freedom", the voiceless victim of what tarted as the biggest crimes of our modern history, the "War On Terror", keep dying on the sea, in land or in slave markets in Libya and Sudan.
The last of the forgotten stories the shipwreck by the coast of Greece, on a boat filled with almost 750 people, 3000% more than it was built for, has cost the lives of more than 500 people, including more than 100 children who were held deep under the deck "to be safe".
The sorry didn't make the front page of the news on the world media and those who covered it, called it "dozens died in capsize boat", dozens. That is the language they use to make it less harmful, not to make people feel sad or empathic for the victims. Because no one wants them, no one cares for them and no one wants to know about them,
WE have spent 100s of billions of dollars into the war in Ukraine that our leaders (with our backing) convinced us that is the only thing that matters, we have to set the world on fire, to save Ukraine, it is the front for the war between "civilized Europe" and the barbarians from the east. Nothing else matters, and we have to sacrifice EVERYTHING to stop the "new Hitler".
The Ukraine war is different, and not, the language is the same, because efore that, it was the ISIS, before that, it was AlQaeda and before that the Taliban. The names are different, but they hall something in common, they were all created by the failed policies of the west, and their victims, all 4.5 million of them don't even count. They are not worthy of any change in policy, any critical look at the rotten foundation of the so called civilized world's values and behavior.
the unnamed victims of the capsized ship in Greece is jut the latest of many, many more that no one pays attention, and if they do, it only last a minute, or a day. Then they move on. Focus on what is important. To keep our Amazon order coming on time, the Uber driver can get his slave wage so we can go from point a to b, and the factory workers in Vietnam, Honduras, Haiti, Mexico and all other places keep on working 12h per day for a $1 an hour or less we can buy a brand football jersey for $120 and be proud to support our team.
No one will even remember the shipwreck in Greece in a few days (if they haven't already forgotten of course) or all others who die so we can live our life, not knowing the price they pay just to have a fraction of what we have,
Sorry for the rant, i am writing with tears in my eyes, watched a short story from an eye witness of the tragedy. It hits me hard because I was one of those boat refugees 38 years ago. I was lucky and survived and got support, welcomed and got an education and was able to have a life I never thought I would have. But none of the 500+ people who died in Greece the other day will never have that chance. Not even the ones who survived will be as lucky as I was, the world has changed, the world refugee is a curse word.
I still remember the word of an Irish guy in my team who said "holy shit, I am working for a refugee"!
#Imigration #DeathAtSea #Tragedy #Greece #WarOnTerror #Inhumanity #Politics #SayTheirNames #Europe
