In these overcast days, it seems apropos to recall these words of the famous poem that speaks to the politics of not one place or time, but to the unfortunate state of human endeavour.
Let us walk in the market place today with shackles on our feet;
Walk with hands spread out dancing and with abandon.
With dust covered hair, with blood stained shirt,
The whole city waits for you.
Let's go.
They will wait the ruler of the city,
the populace,
the arrow of accusation,
the stones of slander,
the unfulfilled warning,
the faded day.
Who is their friend ..besides us?
Who in the city of the beloved is honourable?
Who remains worthy of the hands of the killer?
Prepare the heart for its journey.
Come, you broken-hearted ones,
Let's go and be killed again!
Friends, let's go!
My brothers and sisters, death awaits us, on the road there, what shall we do?
Let's go!
A short apoetical rant
I joined facebook on the day BB did the work of her government, assassins, loyalists in opposition. Who knows why one does these things. Still there is a newsfeed there: [I] joined two groups (a city and an author) and listed myself as single.
My brothers and sisters, death awaits us, on the road there, what shall we do?
Let's go to facebook! Let's meejew ourselves into a stupour the likes of which has never been known before! Let us make our noble avotenu who sliced their own throats at Masada jealous with our caprice and vigour to die in banality and violence at once! Come brothers, Let's go!
