Dark clouds loom over America. They obscure our vision. Though shadows thickened on that terrible Sept. 11, they gathered earlier, and grew more ominous when America invaded Afghanistan. As the U.S. government engages in protracted preparations for the Iraq War and the slaying of more innocent civilians, the dimness deepens. What a way to start the New Year!
From the middle of a volcanic fire storm, where we have been since Sept. 11, it can be difficult to see clearly. Both the bright fire and dim smoke blind. The storm's impact is too immediate and intense. You can feel it, but it is too close to see the whole picture. Hidden beneath the murky clouds is the dark oil that runs America - a treasure that our oilmen leaders are willing to kill to secure.
I have been waking up around 2 a.m. many nights with a feeling of impending doom, as the U.S. gets closer to all-out war against Iraq. Friends report similar ominous late night awakenings. I feel it in my body, perhaps because I am a Vietnam Era veteran and was raised in the military family that gave its name to Ft. Bliss, Texas.
I write this from a lunar, gloomy feeling, seeking to discern light in this blurry time. I feel a sense of dread about what the U.S. might do, allegedly in my name and with my tax dollars. This may come out as a rant, but foreboding sadness lays beneath it during this time when the Earth seems to be going through a dark night of the soul. The next desert storm might threaten the planet itself.
From the middle of a volcanic fire storm, where we have been since Sept. 11, it can be difficult to see clearly. Both the bright fire and dim smoke blind. The storm's impact is too immediate and intense. You can feel it, but it is too close to see the whole picture. Hidden beneath the murky clouds is the dark oil that runs America - a treasure that our oilmen leaders are willing to kill to secure.
I have been waking up around 2 a.m. many nights with a feeling of impending doom, as the U.S. gets closer to all-out war against Iraq. Friends report similar ominous late night awakenings. I feel it in my body, perhaps because I am a Vietnam Era veteran and was raised in the military family that gave its name to Ft. Bliss, Texas.
I write this from a lunar, gloomy feeling, seeking to discern light in this blurry time. I feel a sense of dread about what the U.S. might do, allegedly in my name and with my tax dollars. This may come out as a rant, but foreboding sadness lays beneath it during this time when the Earth seems to be going through a dark night of the soul. The next desert storm might threaten the planet itself.