In Quotes

max-van-den-oetelaar-buymYm3RQ3U-unsplash

Photo: Max van den Oetelaar on Unsplash

 

“Oh, wow!”

“I know.”

“Did they really decide you were threatening violence against others?”

“Aha.”

“You!??”

Sigh.

“But you weren’t!”

‘I know.”

“And you’re the last person I can think of who’d do anything like that.”

“Thank you. Indeed I wouldn’t. I was speaking out against the threat of violence … and yet …”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah.”

“So now what?”

“I don’t know. As soon as I saw they suspended me, I’ve appealed. I pointed out I was protesting false-choice and threats of violence against the helpless. That I was absolutely not promoting violence. I pointed out that I’d placed any graphic words in quotes exactly because I wanted to make sure it was clear that this was an example of what someone like a Mafioso, in their false-choices, might say. I told them that this was an analogy. That that’s why I put it in quotes. I was certain they’ll reinstate my account. Instead, they wrote back to say that they’d reviewed my appeal and ‘found’ me to have been threatening violence and therefore they won’t restore my account.”

“I can’t believe this is the conclusion they’ve reached!”

“Me neither. It hurts my heart.”

“But you were doing the opposite of threatening people!”

“I know. I abhor violence. Against anyone. By anyone. In fact, this was why I was pointing out the wrong of using violence as a threat.”

“Can’t they see that for themselves? Also, all they need to do is read some of the stuff you write and do and stand for. I mean, this is ludicrous!”

Sigh.

“You of all people …”

Sigh.

“Sheesh! What’s wrong with them?”

“Actually, I’m not angry they wanted to take a look. If anything even appears to be threatening, it should be examined. I’m okay with that. What does upset me is that even after supposedly reviewing this, they say I was threatening violence, when I was absolutely not. I’m dismayed that in spite of me pointing out that this was a quote (and yes, it was in quotes!) of what a mafioso might say to gain compliance, they don’t see this for the analogy it was. I’m upset they don’t believe me I was protesting, via use of the mafia analogy, the untenable situation others are currently facing. I was protesting violence, not promoting it!”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I know.”

“So now what?”

“I’ve re-appealed. I hope they’ll reconsider.”

“Now you wait?”

“I guess so.”

“And in the meanwhile?”

“I write here. I continue speaking against violence and injustice. I continue to trust people will do the right thing. I breathe. I don’t know what more …”

“Can I help?”

“You already are.”

“I am?”

“Yes. It helps that you’re listening. It helps to have you validate that you know I would not threaten to do harm to anyone. It helps that you’re here. It helps that you’re kind. It helps that you’re you.”

“Oh.”

 

 

 

For Linda Hill’s SoCS challenge: Oh

 

 

Falling Skies

Falling sky NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

The skies aren’t falling

About our ears

In a squall

Of rain,

Nor in white flakes

That slough off

Of clouds

Again.

 

These skies are falling,

Bit by bit,

In tears

Orphaned

By pain,

And lost in hollows

Fed by

Hate

That’s allowed to

Remain.

 

 

For Linda Hill’s SoCS prompt: Fall from the sky

 

 

Will The Baby Cry?

Photo prompt: © Roger Bultot

 

“Be there in a moment, Aaron,” Miriam herded her family toward the synagogue across the street.

“Mom!” Ben protested. She drags him outta’ bed, then stays outside herself?

“It’s urgent,” Miriam apologized, eyes already on her phone.

Seven-year-old Jacob glanced at his dad. “Will the baby cry?”

“You screamed like a stuck pig at your Bris,” Ben offered.

Jacob froze. “I’ll stay with Mom.”

“Ben!” their dad scolded.

Staccato bangs echoed. Loud screams.

“The baby?!” Jacob clung to his father’s hand.

“Down! All of you!” Aaron shoved Jacob behind a car and raced to the synagogue. “Shots fired! Call 911!”

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

Have Heart For A Better Humanity

at the end of a day

Photo: Monique Laats on Pexels.com

 

When a place of worship crumbles

Into hell of gore and pain,

And the sorrows of the many

Become what connects us all again,

Know that care can conquer ugly

And that compassion outdoes hate’s disdain,

As long as we eject terror

To heed the better, deeper call,

That anything that harms our kinship

Diminishes the very core of all,

Just as anything that builds it

Can lead humanity to standing tall.

 

 

For Debbie’s Six Word Saturday

 

Out Played

Photo prompt: © Anshu Bhojnagarwala

 

“It’s an effing eyesore.”

“I don’t care.”

Martin balled his fists but Susan just gazed at him.

She said nothing but he knew: Raise a finger on me and off to jail you go. The judge was clear: Anger-Management or prison. Martin took the former but could swear Susan’s infuriating behavior intended to get him the latter.

He inhaled slowly before turning away. “When Sanitation fines us,” he growled, “it’s all yours to pay.”

“Fine,” she shrugged. “Though I think they won’t.”

He glared. “Why? Got connections?”

“Nope,” she patted the rotting piano. “I’ve registered it as street art.”

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

 

Not Yet History

gas-1639242_1920

Photo: Tomasz Mikolajczyk on Pexels

 

“Are these from olden times?” the boy’s eyes were round with wonder.

“Not so olden,” his mother sighed. “We have some in our bomb-shelter. Everyone was fitted with a gas mask during the Gulf War. We had to carry it everywhere. Even preschoolers like you.”

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Mask in 45 words

 

Musket Madness

3dgun

 

Plastic muskets laid bare

To the earth and the air

As rogue arms on a dare

Sought excuse to declare

Every day a warfare

Blood and death everywhere

By a print left to share

As weak minds to beware

Turn stale rage to nightmare

While those who ought be aware

Turn blind eye to despair

By their greed fast ensnared.

 

 

Merriam-Webster’s word for July 31, 2018:

Musket

This post continues the blogging challenge in which Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day, serves as inspiration a-la the “Daily Prompt.”

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“Make Me Disappear”

underground river SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

“Make me disappear,” she said,

As her eyes pleaded to be seen.

“I don’t care anymore,” she said,

As her voice begged to be heard.

The bruises on her skin long faded

But the wounding in her heart remained

Unhealed

Unchanged.

“I want to not be anymore,” she said.

But it was pain and the isolating loss of shame

She needed to erase,

Not life itself.

 

 

 

For The Daily Post