This is my Dunkirk.
I write this for those stuck behind enemy lines.
Recalling Dunkirk today as I learn that no boats are coming for me, to rescue me from the feverish aggression of a nation trapped in war.
Only the distance from where I am to the actual fighting acts as a kind of fog to hide inside of until a better plan is found.
Someday these soldiers will come home covered in gore and they are going to be really angry that we did not stop the wars sooner.
They will come home and I hope I am long gone by then because I do not want to see the blowback.
At least at Dunkirk every boat and ship was deployed, every able bodied person set sail to help and for some reason the Panzer divisions did not attack.
Those who were not picked up by the boats had to flee into Europe and find exits in places like Spain.
I have tried the exits in Norway, Canada and Iceland. They don’t want immigrants who might need social services someday.
People do get old and sick and their families would not be there to take care of them. So, they reason against our pleas for mercy or so I ‘understand’.
I wonder if the bureaucrats and lawyers who turned me away feel any guilt at all, or were they like drone operators in Syracuse, zip zap zip off to the home fires, just another day at work?
Knowing that they left someone like me, standing up for humanity and against wars, stranded, tripped into the breach by hatred and fear and militarized empire.
I wonder if they realize where that leaves the pacifist. How lonely and helpless I am.
If you want to work or live here, you have to be a member of the Party. The War Party. Where’s a Christ-loving SOB like me to go??
This is my Dunkirk, this lonely birch tree on a mountainside. At least I know what I stand for and how much I choke to death on militarism, killing and war.
At least I refused to kill my fellow humans in Vietnam and do not support those who Do kill. If that makes you feel uncomfortable, you should feel uncomfortable and learn from that.
Where, here, I planted trees, while you blew shit up overseas. Where, here, I painted a portrait of War, so when you would look, you would have a mirror to see War in.
Dunkirk, where braver souls than I found out a deep truth about our moral rot: Found out who were there for them, and who were not.