Global poverty is an existential wound. The synchronized deaths of those who’re under-fed with those who are over-fed, draws us to the tragedy of this world that lacks justice. We’re all taking part in this wretched curse. The indifferent, those who cover their guilt in the little they give away, those who “spread the word”, The sympathizers and the inhumane, and even those who write a pathetic article like the one i’m writing now.
We’re all part of this deep wound at the heart of existence. We’re all cursed. But the inhumane are the ones who are more cursed than all of us combined.
Those who sought the mountain tops, climbing over the poor, to spread their authoritative and utterly subjective judgements on us all..
Those who offer us food in one hand, and their ideologies along with it in the other..
Those who aim to reach their heavenly goals through the moans and groans of the hungry..
The bitter irony of the case lies within their existence that hangs on the existence of the poor ones of this planet. The same planet that Mahmoud Darwish poetically claimed that its worth living in..
Whilst the dead fall everyday, every single day, off the edge of existence. Mocking Darwish, mocking us, mocking existence..
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