Excursus

Did you know that in war, no one wins?

They tell you: This country won, and the other lost, this side won and the other disappeared, those died and this survived, but nobody ever says how they all lost. 

Yes, there is the right side and the side we don’t speak about, there is the eternal shame and the honour with the glory, but there is no victory because this is the truth about war:

The blood never ends, it becomes an ocean of bodies buried in mud and names lost in abbreviations of M.I.A. And there is no grandiose way of saying we have won with our heads held high without the truth of the trembling lip because there are too many empty houses, there are worlds of cemeteries, there are too many children crying for parents that: Where is the victory? Why wasn't talking ever an option? A gun is taken and handed to the hands of a child, and they tell them to shoot, so they can save themselves, but: Who saves them from the burden of killing? Who wipes the blood off their eyes? Who forgives them for their demons? You give power to an egomaniac, and he plays with the life of people as if it was tic-tac-toe. 

What is war? If not too many sayings that are alive till this day to make jokes of, without remembering the bombs that massacred, the ships that mutilated, the planes that cut, without thinking that my land today is a road of bones

And we can offer help until we go poor, however, war will still have money to maintain the pig, because the truth about war is that its ally is silence, it’s letting the blood paint the innocent before the guilty, is to forget the name of every soldier and civilian. 

It’s to dismiss catastrophes to the value of death, it’s to clean our hands by the distance of space and time, it’s to blame the country and not power. It’s not going to the front of a barrel of a gun and offering a flower to the bullet that should never bloom.

TA.