The Ballroom's on Fire
Children are suffering, and I thought that would be enough. Genocides are unfolding, and I thought that would be enough. Innocent lives are being taken, and I thought that would be enough. How much longer are we going to pretend, to continue dancing in the masquerade?
The ballroom is on fire, but everyone is still dancing and twirling. Those who are screaming are dragged away. People are focused on their careers, on their education, on polishing their little windows so the world can see how perfect their lives appear, how snugly their masks fit. A frown hiding under the smile of the mask.
How? How are people continuing within the illusion? Chasing careers that rest atop mountains of corpses, convincing themselves their education and their vote mean they have done enough. Traveling the world not to shed light on the suffering, but to escape it. Speaking of the horrors of the world, only to hide under their masks when the time to act comes. People know their vote means little within an oligarchy. They know their careers contribute nothing to ending suffering. They know their luxury vacations stand in contrast to the cries of the oppressed. Yet they cry about empathy for the rest of the year. Speaking of suffering yet hiding when it demands more than words.
The truth is, most people want only to appear as if they care, to be perceived as if they have made a difference, without shedding an ounce of true sympathy. The only sympathy they offer is that which circles back to themselves. I have known those who could not look away, whose hearts shattered along with their masks. Those who had suffered immensely, whose innocence could never be restored. These are the ones who refuse to dance while the ballroom burns.
War shadows our very existence. Technological war, attacks from far away, not from a man we can see. A war where power and communication are stolen from the people, where survival consumes men and women from within. I am tired of the silence. Tired of the weakness of man who lives in comfort while watching human beings suffer. The weight of it is indescribable, indispensable in the worst of ways. There are enough homes for the homeless. Enough food for the starving. Enough prosperity to prosper. Yet money has diluted our minds into believing that some are undeserving.
In this image we see an ordinary New York City sidewalk. A hospital across the street from a church. Yet a man sleeps on the steps of that church. The resources exist. The humanity does not. People are suffering. How long until we take action?
I believe that in these times, what must guide us is love and hope. Love, which allows us to find safety amidst chaos. Hope, which allows us to continue even when darkness clouds the sky. Now more than ever, we must not give up on love. Love as if we may never love again. Hope even when we feel hopeless. Because clouds cover the skies, and darkness is at the doors. In the burning ballroom, the most radical act is to love others so immensely we are willing to put them before ourselves. To hope that is enough.
-Noa Nocciola