I did a quick sketch of a man flowing down a river, to explain my thought on “Flowing,” just so I could spend more time understanding the expectations of the prompt word, #Cruel.
After the news of the loss of my daughter, I was having trouble imagining or even wanting to think of a tragedy that could surpass it and to have it waiting for me at the end of this flowing river, along life’s, journey.
To be made to step out of the marsh of my past, to memorialize the memory of my daughter and the thousands affected just like her, from the incompetence of doctors and scientists who sought to bend the realities of proven doctrine, all in the name of human advancement.
To finally forgive, in my heart, those who believed the over use of vaccines was for the good of mankind. With her passing that struggle is over. Twelve years of “blood-fueled,” rage, washed away in her shade.
To be able to finally allow the issue to rest, only to turn around or move forward into another trial, another test of human endurance.
I do believe this can be defined as cruel.
The “star-child,” of my mind, would like to believe my demons would give me rest. The Dream Weaver of my soul, knows better and prepares for the next blow.
Cruel is a world that takes the innocent and marks them as expendable. Cruel is the world that believes because I am a man, I have no right to feel anything, aside from rage. Denounce me a coward because I refuse to hold a sword around my daughter’s grave.
Cruel is the world that can send 116 satellites into space to study the patterns of human behavior, conduct 166 missions in the course of 60 years and can calculate from a desktop receiver that it takes 10 years to reach the edge of the solar system where radio waves need 4.5 hours to reach Earth; but can’t reverse the effects of “Mercury Compounds,” clogging a child’s brain. Choking her dreams.
Cruel is the thought that peace will only be held in the memory of her face.