Outage to inrage

I consider the image of four people walking along a dirt road, supposedly in Gaza. They seem to be walking casually. You cannot tell if they are armed, male or female. They could be teenagers.

And then they are gone. A drone takes them out, and we see a puff of smoke where they had been one second before. It is not a video game or a movie.

This little event follows daily events of the calibre that any healthy nervous system and moral authority cannot bear.

Wilful starvation, not just of Palestinians, communities of black and brown people, and those deemed lower caste or any skin colour,, all over the world.

Where is our outrage?

I consider my response to these events and notice that the flame of outrage struggles to light day after day after day.

Outrage fatigue, I wonder.

Or has our collective outrage turned inward and become inrage?

Has the flame of rage become a weapon of mass despair, helplessness, and mental breakdown?

Have we been so thoroughly inoculated by the constancy of violence, to people, our land, our creatures, that our senses are immune?

Is our daily survival now to the point that allowing the immensity of feelings to be present is too overstimulating, almost agonising?

I am writing this on a headland surrounded by ocean and beauty.

The sun has just risen, the birds are chirping. Live is awakening for this day.

The contrast is difficult to apprehend.

My thoughts remain unreconciled.

Photo Taken March 23rd 2024

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