Tonight I cry tears for every man, woman and child who has suffered at the hands of oppression and injustice. I cry for the children in Syria, the mothers in Ghaza, the family and friends grieving in Ferguson.
But I also shed my tears for the oppressors, the wielders of swords who press their blades against their victims’ necks and take pleasure in hearing their dying pleas. I cry for them because they are lost, and I wonder where we went wrong to have let such people slip through the cracks.
We live in a world where science and technology continue to grow at such a pace that it seems as though we might actually have a chance to become advanced creatures, both in the way we think and how we learn to adapt to these new groundbreaking inventions.
The number of amazing feats doctors, artists, engineers, designers and scientists alike have been able to accomplish is a rapidly growing phenomenon that I personally doubt will slow down any time soon.
And yet, in the midst of all these wonderful discoveries, these glorious designs and intricate blueprints that are a product of the creative imagination, we find the black holes preventing us from reaching our true potential as human beings.
Alas, sometimes the apple we thought was ripe and ready for picking turns out to be the one with the most rotten of cores. Tell me, am I the only one who finds it hard to believe that among us there are still those who choose to believe that they are, in fact, better than others? That they are entitled to certain things? That they can determine their rank and file in society by obliterating any and all things or people standing in their way? I refuse to believe that there are people who are inherently bad. After all, it isn’t the apple’s fault that it became rotten.
However, in light of recent events, my optimistic view of humanity has been shredded, the scattered remains of what were once innocent thoughts now nothing more than a bittersweet memory floating like ashes over the image of Michael Brown.
Words mean nothing. Would words have helped young Michael, had he pleaded for his life in the soft undertones of someone who knows the odds are against them? Would words have made a difference if Michael had screamed against the injustice that had chosen him because of a history that bound him just as chains had bound his ancestors before him? Words are the trivial leftovers of our raw emotions, our pathetic attempts to express something that can never be captured after it has already occurred. Words are nothing more than the aftermaths of moments, and yet I find that I have no other way of showing my pain, my desperation. My horror.
So if words do not carry weight, then let my heavy heart be a testament to the pain I feel
I did not know you, Mike Brown, but I know your story. Because you are not the first, nor will you be the last. So long as we keep advancing with our sciences, our engineering, our space programs and nuclear weapons…so long as we continue to educate ourselves about the future, and ignore the past, we will soon realize that we’re really only going backwards
Morals. Responsibility. Decency. Modesty. Leadership. Honesty. Compassion. Empathy. Strength.
Let these be the characteristics we nurture within ourselves, so that there is no room in our hearts for evil to worm its way in and fester like a growing tumor. Let us allow our minds and hearts alike to be fruitful with knowledge, knowledge that goes beyond the classroom. Knowledge of ourselves. For if we do not understand who we truly are as individuals, how can we learn to appreciate and respect someone else for who they are?