Removed

 

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A sunny day in Houston, TX from the Buffalo Bayou.

You see the mess
So far away
Assume it’ll never reach you
But then one day
It comes to say
Hello, I’m here to meet you

Your heart may feel
For a little while
The empathy appears
And then its gone
You’re back to dawn
Forgotten yesteryears

But what is real
Is lived by those
The mess on the other side
Without a home
No place to roam
Same dream when they close their eyes

So please remember
You may be well
But many may feel cursed
Be kind and show
Much love and know
The roles could be reversed

The World on Fire


I, like most of you, have been fortunate enough to be born in a country and situation of stability. I have never heard the sounds of bombs dropping from the sky, I have never seen bodies blown to pieces, I have never watched a child deliriously cry after being pulled out of rubble and learning their parents have died. I have never had to worry about starvation. I have never had to worry about a mob of men raping me. I have never had to surrender my life to hopelessness. This is all because I was fortunate enough to be born in a place other than Aleppo, Syria. A place other than South Sudan. A place other than Yemen. A place other than Burundi. A place other than many other places in this world. Humanity’s shadow side is incredibly dark. However, the biggest disappointment is the complacency of those of us so far removed from the situation. The self-consumed attitude. As if what is happening over the Atlantic will never arrive at our door. As if we don’t have the foundations to birth a place of viable instability. As if we don’t have a responsibility to our fellow human beings. WTF humanity?!WTF?! “The world has always been on fire.” But that is because complacency has kept us all from believing we hold the bucket of water needed to extinguish it.

Hate

So you hate…you hate, because you believe what is different is not right. You hate because you see with your eyes, instead of your heart. You hate because you follow a narrow path, instead of realizing the paths are many.
But once you realize, hate is simply caused by misunderstanding….you may love.
You may love what is different because you now know, the difference is what makes a “thing” the beautiful “thing” that it is.
You may love because your heart sees hearts. It does not see the labeled shells we wear, begging for the validation from other egos.
You may love because the beauty of life is the journey….and in the end, our destinations are the same. To go back to become dust.
What is different, is not wrong. What is hate, is what is wrong…and hate has never made this world a better place.

Humans of New York: Sharing Stories from refugees in Europe

Humans of New York (HONY) is currently sharing stories from refugees in Europe. These are stories that need to be read and shared. It is easy to remain disconnected from what is happening across the sea or across the border, but we are ONE world, ONE human race, ONE love.

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The extent to which refugee children have been conditioned by their environment is heartbreaking. We wanted permission to take this young girl’s photograph, so we asked if her mother was nearby. Her eyes filled with the most uncontrollable fear that I’ve ever seen in a child. ‘Why do you want my mother?’ she asked. Later, her parents told us how the family had crouched in the woods while soldiers ransacked their house in Syria. More recently they’d been chased through the woods by Turkish police. After we’d spent a few minutes talking with her parents, she returned to being a child and could not stop hugging us, and laughing, and saying ‘I love you so much.’ But I went to sleep that night remembering the terror on her face when we first asked to speak to her mother.

Bootstraps

“Pick yourself up by your bootstraps”

Said the man in the golden seat.

The child looked down looking for straps

but only saw bare feet.

“Pick yourself up by your bootstraps”

Said the woman covered in pearls.

The man looked down, saluted the space

where his legs once felt the hurt.

“Pick yourself up by your bootstraps”

Said the pompous working grad.

The elderly lady looked down in shame

her memory had long gone bad.

“Pick yourself up by your boot straps”

I often hear THEM say

until THEIR straps are no longer there

and THEY begin to pray.

“Pick yourself up by your bootstraps.”

“But I was not born with any.”

“Well here, my friend, take my straps

and pass it along to many.”