A ten-year-old’s school bag does not know its owner is not coming home. It just sits by the door, zipped up, packed the night before for a school day that never came. It waits for the hands that would have reached for the handle, swung it over one shoulder, and hurried out the door. The books inside still think he’s coming back. But those hands are gone. Only the bag remains, waiting for someone who will never unzip it again.
Kids don’t wake up thinking about borders, politics, or grudges between grown men in suits. The biggest decision most of them make in a day is which cartoon to watch or who gets picked first for a game.And how does a five-year old end up a war victim, never to celebrate their own birthday? How does a birthday cake end up sitting untouched in a fridge because the family is now planning a funeral instead of a party?
How can older individuals claim wisdom if they let the younger ones die?
We like to say, “Age brings wisdom.” Alright, then where is that wisdom when a child is the one paying with their life? What’s even the point of growing older if the most defenseless and the purest kid in the room is still the one who gets shredded? If that’s wisdom, then ignorance would be the safer bet. A country that can build armies and fill bank accounts but still has to explain a dead child to a room full of cameras isn’t strong. In my eyes, it’s just impotent and malicious war, with better equipment.
Then the excuses arrive with briefcases. “It’s complicated. Nothing can be done right now. That’s just how fate plays its game.” Ok…try saying that to a mother standing over a grave the size of a laundry basket. Then try saying it to a father carrying his son because his son cannot carry himself anymore. Neither of them wants your complicated war explanation. They just wanted their child breathing.
Has violence now become normal for some in society?
What really terrifies me isn’t the violence itself, because cruelty has existed for as long as people have. It’s how instantly we double-tap and move on. A child dies on the news at six, and by nine, the same people are laughing over a football score or arguing about some celebrity’s divorce. If that doesn’t unsettle you, then you’ve normalized the abnormal.
The algorithms move faster than grief ever can. Yesterday’s tragedy is pushed aside for today’s entertainment. The headlines change. The hashtags disappear. But families don’t get to refresh their lives the way we refresh our screens.
And yes…somewhere tonight, a pair of small shoes is sitting by a door that will never open for them again. Now…go on. Blame fate. Blame the stars. Blame anything but yourself.
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