When the corpse is not ours…

In my place, it is commonly said that “when they carry the corpse of someone you don’t know, it simply seems like the pallbearers are carrying an old box.” To make the understanding clearer, when we are insulated and are not directly affected by wicked acts of fellow men, the outcomes of those actions barely cause us to pause and think.

Until we all as humans recognize that everybody has a right to life whatever race or colour they may be, whatever religion they choose to believe in, whatever gender or sexual affiliation they lean to, whatever tongue they may speak in…

until we as humans realize that no one is superior to the other and that all men are created equal – men used figuratively in this sense…

until we humans understand that the migration of people has been happening from the beginning of time and whether we like it or not, mixing of races and change is inevitable…

until we as individuals begin to question our love for hatred, bigotry, division and discrimination, prejudice and intolerance…

until we start to hold the toes of our leaders to the fire and hold them accountable for their utterances and misbegotten directions…

until we lose the cloak of apathy that seems to have pervaded our minds and taken place in our hearts where empathy should be…

until we as individuals search our souls and ask ourselves if we are truly living and reflecting the goodness that we want to see in the world…

despicable and horrific occurrences like mass shooting will continue to gather momentum…

and who knows…

maybe one day, that old rickety box might very well become ours to bear.