One Nation Smothered by god: Am I really a Citizen?
Updated: Nov 16, 2020
As I sit here enjoying the benefits bequeathed unto me from a first world birth I cant help but feel something is wrong. Something big is moving in the shadows just beyond the yellow hazed back yard lights, a pair of eyes, white, no pupils, and teeth, teeth climbing the jagged upward curl of what could only be called a content snarl… I can feel it, just outside the blue-green glow of the LCD universe here in middle America, just pulling at the cords, the sound of its fingers sliding, creaking as they close, somehow I hear dripping sounds. It wants so dearly to pull those cords, to bend them over like a garden hose and stop the cascading ones and zeros, if it could only control the flow it could stop the little thing in my mind from feeding, the little thing that knows its there, it could finally kill it.
Something is there, I know you feel it too, everyone does. You feel it when the perfectly manicured face tells you everything is OK on the screen, you feel it when you read about massive censorship bills passing through the government, slaughters abroad, massive tax exemptions for mega corporations too big to fail, but on the nightly news, nothing, nothing but the glassy eyed stares, the ones with too few blinks as they read the teleprompters, scripted and spun they are sending but no one is receiving…
I feel it every time I see two men kiss, I feel it when I see the reflection of the camera in their eyes as they turn and smile, the shadow growing over their happiness baked in a air of those who would destroy everything that makes their life worth living. I feel it every time I pull open a drawer in a hotel, the burnt offerings, blood sacrifices, and infinite jealousy bleeding from the film thin pages onto the spotted carpet, spotted from years of sin, sins of the believers when they couldn’t push the smile in the darkness away for another night.
I feel it every time I think “who is speaking for me” who represents me and those like me, basking in our tiny vote, at once a significant tally yet at the same time all but ignored, the mark that makes us an unbelieving part of a system increasingly blurry in the distance as it grows taller and taller, further and further from the people who check that box… The inescapable choice between my jailer and my executioner for a choice of two evils reeks of its perfume…
“A chrissstian nation” the teeth hiss,
“run by a nation of chrissstian people” a sharp intake of breath
“yourrr equality isss limited, limited by the limitlesss majority for they sssay what I tell them” the cheeks crinkle as the grin grows impossibly further
“They think I left them in the garden but I’ve alwaysss been with them, from humble beginningsss”
The sounds of something receding direct my attention to a small fire, a single page brown with age, curled at the edges with age and fire, ashes float upwards towards the blackened sky, my eyes follow upward, stopping at the top of the page… slowly reading the burning paper left behind, the words mouthed slowly, silently. “We The People…”