From Nobel Prize to Genocide. Please help!

Aung San Suu Kyi has stood by, whilst her military sidekicks murder, pillage and rape the Rohingya people in one of the great outrages of the twenty-first century and there seems little doubt that these actions constitute genocide. The deliberate attempt by the powers of the Myanmar Government, civilian and military, to eliminate the Rohingya people, and at the very least to have killed tortured and raped tens of thousands of men women and children in a planned and deliberate action that has so far has gone unpunished.

Everyone is being frightfully ‘correct’ even the Pope avoided the obvious and in so doing gave succor to ASSK and her rapist colleagues.  Wasn’t the example of the Nazi concentration camps enough of a horror for us.  Yet the world stands idly by while Rohingya are routinely burned to death, children are beaten to death and women forced to watch their men being murdered before they themselves are raped in front of their parents.  And the UN remarks that all this is ”probably” Genocide.

I am inclined to curse at this point. In the mane of mankind, there must be just- cause to rescue the Rohingya from the criminals who run Myanmar.  NOW! –  not sometime in the future when the perpetrators are brought to justice. (if that is ever to happen.)  The free world challenged Hitler and the axis powers, yet we stand idly by because the Rohingya have no wealth to defend, they have no voice at the tables of power, they have no rights because we all choose not to give them rights.

We should be ashamed, all of us.  Go shout at your political leaders to do something, and while we fill the Christmas stockings, children in Myanmar will see their daddies murdered their mothers raped and their siblings cruelly maimed.

Enjoy your Christmas, but please, please, be a nuisance and hound the hell out of those who maybe can shorten these days of carnage and genocide, even by a day.

 

 

 

And still, I am blind.

Sitting in the sun, we watch the shadows where the world

scurries in the gutters of manmade cruelties.  Look away

and see the comfort of your insignificant self,

close your ears to the din of bombing and the screams of dying children,

soft, listen to the drone of mosquitoes killing nightly a household of despair.

Love your son and daughter but close your eyes to the brute next door,

looking inward and insulating the hollow of your warm nest.

The sun that shines on me bleeds on others who are not my brothers,

they are someone else’s shame,

locked away over the horizon of the night.  Come the morning and the blindness will still

be here, the scales of so-called love affixed firmly

so that I can see what it is I want to see.

My blindness sees the sunshine,

my blindness sees no darkness,

Yet, I know, I know and still, I am blind.

Listen to the crying child.

Listen, can you hear the children cry?

From earthquake street or Yemen’s misery

Do you hear the mother’s scream of pain?

As Aung Sang Suu Kyi lies, staring blindly on.

Do you hear the whimpers of the dying child?

As drugs so needed rush too late to their breathless side.

Do you hear the mother’s tears that soak the ground?

In tortured villages that ISIS found.

Do you hear the cries of empty bellies?

In Bangladesh’s soaking drowning fields

Can you hear the buzzing bombs?

That flatten towns and schools.

Listen! Listen! – Will you reply?

To quiet the cries of that child of ours.