Let Weeping Not Fail
Wednesday, 21. October 2009, 02:12:18
I wept tonight.
I was one of them, once. That same hideous beast of destruction, that mindless bloodlust, was built in my soul, too. As I watched the video, that awful thing I saw them doing -- not only without any hint of justice, but without even the justification of dogs tearing at some prey. No, it was far worse. Men born to higher things, chose to suppress all good inside themselves.
Yes, I know it's not entirely their fault. They were tricked, lied into their service commitment. And while it's not official, that ghastly hatred for anyone who isn't part of your "team" is most assuredly uniformly fostered. You'll never find it written anywhere, but the real meaning behind what is written is a soldier is just a fleshbot trained to kill and destroy. And the sure insanity of our imperial aggression in the Middle East makes no sense to a man with a conscience. So to still that wailing conscience, the trooper must become a killbot. If he does not laugh at cruelty, he will turn that gun on himself.
I know. I was one of them once.
And it made me weep, because I don't want to ever remember that time. But I must. I must remember, and must tell others who can't remember because they weren't there. Honor could be found, but I can assure you the hounds of Hell will not allow you to escape that place without many, many scars on your soul, and places cauterized, and they must never be allowed to heal. It must hurt always, and I must weep often, so I don't ever find my hand crushing any part of another life. Yes, honor can be found in that funny suit, but it will be stolen quickly, subverted, turned into a charade. At the very least, it will be compromised. But if you hold tightly to it, maybe it will survive that Valley of Death.
So I weep tonight. The truth must be kept alive, for the worst scars on my soul are the wounds I have left on others. Let my tears not fail.
I was one of them, once. That same hideous beast of destruction, that mindless bloodlust, was built in my soul, too. As I watched the video, that awful thing I saw them doing -- not only without any hint of justice, but without even the justification of dogs tearing at some prey. No, it was far worse. Men born to higher things, chose to suppress all good inside themselves.
Yes, I know it's not entirely their fault. They were tricked, lied into their service commitment. And while it's not official, that ghastly hatred for anyone who isn't part of your "team" is most assuredly uniformly fostered. You'll never find it written anywhere, but the real meaning behind what is written is a soldier is just a fleshbot trained to kill and destroy. And the sure insanity of our imperial aggression in the Middle East makes no sense to a man with a conscience. So to still that wailing conscience, the trooper must become a killbot. If he does not laugh at cruelty, he will turn that gun on himself.
I know. I was one of them once.
And it made me weep, because I don't want to ever remember that time. But I must. I must remember, and must tell others who can't remember because they weren't there. Honor could be found, but I can assure you the hounds of Hell will not allow you to escape that place without many, many scars on your soul, and places cauterized, and they must never be allowed to heal. It must hurt always, and I must weep often, so I don't ever find my hand crushing any part of another life. Yes, honor can be found in that funny suit, but it will be stolen quickly, subverted, turned into a charade. At the very least, it will be compromised. But if you hold tightly to it, maybe it will survive that Valley of Death.
So I weep tonight. The truth must be kept alive, for the worst scars on my soul are the wounds I have left on others. Let my tears not fail.
WIDGETIZE