Sunday, May 22

The Victim

She saw people praying and using the violence in

the name of religion at the same time, while no

religion is preaching violence. She understood that

this kind of violence was too conflicting for peace, and

yet too diplomatic for war. And that violence no

solution had; nor never none. She thought those

people lived in black light having blind eyes not seeing

the reality of life. She had to accept that this wicked

goodness and this pretty badness belong to our reality

so vixen-like, vexing and hiding so many victimless crimes.

Suddenly, she realized that she could be a new victim.

She started to run while wondering where her safe place was.

She was better than to expect to be caught. She understood

her fear, that fear led to frightening thoughts, those thoughts

leading to panic, that panic leading to derealization. She looked

around trying to recognize the place. She felt worried because she

couldn’t see very well. She searched to make a sword of everything

around, but quickly after that, she thought that the swords are the

weapons of warriors, but she’s not a warrior, she’s a victim. She

started to give praise with idle tears, to give praise with wisdom,

to give praise with deep despair. She asked herself if God is there too

hear her, over those ravages of war overwhelmed by the natural

catastrophes and over the ludicrous effect of their transformation

into nothing. She, firstly, believed her religious man was a fighter

against the enemies of God to conclude that he was an enemy of the real

fighters for God. This man was her husband learning in time to beat her

body and to hurt her soul. She saw herself as a little bleeding part of this

world wondering to know if her man is still the man she fell in love with

once, or he’s an illusion. She stopped her run to sit on the ground. She

began to pray hoping that God is there to hear her and to bring a new light

to her crying reality. She stayed there to think how much a rose can

describe a flower, how much a flower can describe a woman, and how

much the feminine can describe many things around. She concluded

that no feminine thing can break this life down. She asked herself,

“What can happen to this world in the absolute absence of the feminine?”

She found herself an innocent person dreaming in a new world without violence.