Strange thoughts

guernica

strange thoughts on the way home today…

I remember an Iraqi artist painting horses. just horses and nothing more. perhaps a few fields..

I remember myself, asking, but where is the pain, where is the war and all the suffering? and why horses, don’t they munch on grass like cows all the time? I think I don’t like him. I ignore him, dismiss him at the end.

and I think about a woman. a mother whose baby has measles but she won’t take him to the hospital because she has four other kids no five other kids to take care of because the doctors are going to play tricks on her because somebody will take the kids away, because it’s so damp in their tent, and so cold.

and I think about a brother quietly saying to himself, shouting to the world, “I never would have thought that one day I would be relieved to see other people’s losses,” because you see, he was looking for his sister in the hospital morgue and she wasn’t there. yet.

strange thoughts on the way home today…

painting horses and nothing more. and brushing my daughter’s beautiful soft hair, weaving pink flowers and butterflies into her curls.

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