Requiem To The Sea Written by Ambreen Ishrat
It's been so many moons away that I have come to sit with you, sea - my friend. Still many moons have passed, since destruction was unleashed upon you. It is yet a night so similar and yet different in so many ways. Tonight I have come to pay my homage to imperious sea, or what remains of it. Can't help it if my homage sounds like a requiem. As I am here, by your side to shed my tears on your fate, and my own which is entwined with yours.
Today, I have come to say a silent prayer for my own future and that of yours.
I hear damp saline ocean waves cry on and whisper to me. In that I hear echo of my own fear, a wail for my own abandonment and those of my dreams. I recall last time I was here, a partly cold December last year, when I walked stretch of Clifton beach. I took long strolls, turning back and forth retracing my own foot marks. The waves were carrying own their ballet, as children on their winter break were playing and laughing. The breeze was pleasing to my face. I dipped my fingers in them and felt a silent and simple exhilaration grow inside me. But as dreams are lost upon water, reverie is gone. It was then, and its gone now. Right now a dark stretch of water lays in front of my eyes, as if I am staring at an abyss, and it is looking back to me.
Too spent to take a stroll, I choose to sit on dusty brick wall breathing in sadness and silence around me. I look around, at vast stretch of deserted beach, this wasteland. Not far from where I sit, lights of two popular eateries shine on. But over here, an impregnable gloom hangs on atmosphere, which overwhelms heart and senses. As yellowed foam slide back, it reveals bared and scraped beach stretch, raked clean by tractors in their bravado salvation efforts. There is no seaweed, no broken sea shells and ironically no trash. Though a solitary white polethene bag puffed up with air, is dodging waves and rolling onwards, as if it has a life of its own. But soon enough, waves catch up it and it disappears in unfathomable depths.
I look onwards, dark and almost ghostly figure of oil tanker is visible, whose dark shape I could only fathom from where I sit. I am a scavenger always on drift, a tramp trying to outrun bounds of civilization, stealing my way out of city that echoes emptiness of monotony and routine. I am forever a melancholic creature, who finds excuse and objects for nostalgia all too often. For me, life is a perpetual yesterday. I remember you in your former glory. And so I remember you as you were before and can't help comparing it with your desolate state today. You were venue for celebrations with friends and for solitary walks. You were my recluse from city life, and today you toss and turn all alone. The crowd is gone,
It's Not My Job to Free TibetWritten by Skye Thomas
I hate saying that. It feels so very wrong. It's not that I wouldn't like to help them. It's not that I am not appalled at what is happening over there. I have been wrestling with my guilty feelings lately. What have I done to make world a better place? I started by taking inventory of areas that I'd love to 'fix'. My to-do list looks like this:
Free Tibet Heal hole in ozone layer Cure Cancer Save endangered species Overhaul public school system Raise my own kids Defend gays and lesbians Teach people how to be happy Solve world hunger Find loving homes for orphans Save rainforest Rid planet of pollution Implement a clean economical fuel system Design a quality inexpensive health care system End divorces and broken homes Clean out political system Create world peace Find Atlantis and solve mystery of pyramids Scientifically prove somebody's religion is true Psychologically heal inmates who want it End all superficial fakeness Save children Stop racism Bring an end to lethargy Stop terrorism Save coral reefs Change America's focus from being 'politically correct' to becoming 'spiritually correct' and I'm not talking about religion
It all gets a bit overwhelming. How can I ever accomplish all of these things in my lifetime? Even if I delegate certain areas to my kids, and make them take a blood oath that they will force my grandkids to carry on with work on this list until it is finished, I cannot possible hope to solve all of world's problems. Then I got to thinking about getting up on my soapbox and preaching to everyone that they need to come help me. There is just so much that needs done and you and I both know that my list is not even complete. I would be lucky if I can do one of those things really well during my lifetime.
I had to sit and really think about my own resources, natural gifts I was born with, and what amount of time I want to commit to doing good deeds. I had to analyze list and what it would really take to accomplish each of those things. What I came to realize is that there are some that I am called to do, some that I just want to do, and still others that I secretly wish someone else would do. That's not a bad thing, it is what it is. I may really want to cure cancer and other diseases, but I know that deep down I don't have any resources, skills, training, or education to apply to problem. It's really not my job. All I can do is to support those who are meant to do that work. If I had money, I'd dump a fortune into their pockets to make sure they had all of tools they needed. But I don't have it to give, not yet anyway.