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CRVENI MAKOVI

Jučer sam lutala poljima crvenih makova...
Sunce, toplina, modro nebo, cvrkut ptica u letu, mreškanje laganih stabljika i latica na povjetarcu, miris divljine i samoće, miris tišine, miris prirode, netaknute, iskonske...
I trebala bi biti sretna, najsretnija na svijetu, samo jer mogu doživjeti ovaj spoj savršenstva...a da li jesam?
Nisam...
Ležim u polju crvenih makova, pogleda uprtog u nebo i ne mogu a da se ne zapitam:

DA LI ONI ZNAJU KOLIKO SU LIJEPA POLJA CRVENIH MAKOVA U OVO DOBA GODINE?



Toliko crvene boje, previše ljepote koju oči ne mogu sakupiti u jedan pogled, svojim vulgaris red efektom podsjeća me na ogromnu masu, gotovo kao krv, prolivena tu, oko mene, u meni...

Toliko loših vijesti...Do kada će dani započinjati sa njima...
Mianmar...Sechuan...
Glad, bolesti, ratovi, zemljotresi, tsunami, poplave, nesreće, gubici...
Toliko tuge i toliko boli...


Dječji pogledi, suze u očima, strah u malim dušama...a gdje je igra, gdje je radost, gdje je sreća...gdje su igre lovice u polju crvenih makova?


Zabrinuta lica starijih, bore na licima koje govore same za sebe, ispisuju priče pravih heroja u svakodnevnoj borbi za goli život.

Gledajući ove slike uhvati me tuga, očaj, nemoć, ne vidim svrhu pisanja ovih redova, možda samo da podijelim s nekim svoje bojazni, uzaludno trošenje vremena ne neke zapise koji će ostati pohranjeni u gomili nevažnih podataka, kako bi sebi olakšali, ali ne i njima...

Koliko boli može čovjek podnijeti, a da ostane priseban i samo čovjek.
Nemoć pojedinca koji vidi i pomračenje razuma moćnih koji mogu nešto promijeniti, a NE VIDE...
...KAKO MOGU MIRNO SPAVATI DOK MI OSTALI PLAČEMO...


Ležeći tako jučer, u polju crvenih makova, imala sam osjećaj kao da sam u moru duša što se svijaju oko mene, lijepe se za moje haljine, za moje ruke, kosu, pokrivaju moje oči, škakljaju me po licu i usnama, ne daju mi da odem, ne puštaju me od sebe i mogla bi se zakleti da je oko mene šaputalo na tisuće glasova...


"Dear Mr. President"

Dear Mr. President,
Come take a walk with me.
Let's pretend we're just two people and
You're not better than me.
I'd like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly.

What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street?
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep?
What do you feel when you look in the mirror?
Are you proud?

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why?

Dear Mr. President,
Were you a lonely boy?
Are you a lonely boy?
Are you a lonely boy?
How can you say
No child is left behind?
We're not dumb and we're not blind.
They're all sitting in your cells
While you pave the road to hell.

What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away?
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay?
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine.

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye?

Let me tell you 'bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you 'bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you 'bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you 'bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don't know nothing 'bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh

How do you sleep at night?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Dear Mr. President,
You'd never take a walk with me.
Would you?

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Post je objavljen 23.05.2008. u 10:35 sati.