Sunglasses
By Smriti Hamal
We don’t wear the mask,
We wear the sunglasses,
Opaque screens of privilege that suppress our vision from the sun, the light of “outside”.
These screens may protect us from the blinding truth of “outside”
But will prevent us from being exposed to the light “outside” that enables us to live.
This striving nation named humanity can’t live without the sun, the “outside” light.
The privileged cannot live without the neglected,
We cannot live without each other.
Too many admit our planet is dying;
It’s physically dominated by pollution, plague, and population,
Whilst poisoned by ignorance and negligence
By a society immunodeficient to materialism.
But we all have a bit of “I want to cleanse this world, purify it, save it,”
And so we search for any piece of good lying around.
We believe that good still exists, and in our power will hunt every piece of it down
To save it.
Responsibility and love will drive this race
And hope will hold it together like glue
This beautiful and fragile nation named humanity seeks one objective;
To not rest at victory, but at equilibrium.
Bridges are built between individuals of Planet Earth.
These bridges are built by birth and death,
And fashioned between the rich and poor,
The privileged and neglected,
Man and woman,
Adult and child,
And the list goes on for about an eternity, if I’m counting right.
There is a story about how one stick was breakable, but a bundle of sticks? Indestructible.
We humans may be fragile as sticks, but we become strong as if by miracle,
When we collaborate.
The heights we will be able to achieve when we stick together are immeasurable.
After all, a bigger bundle of sticks can kindle a stronger blaze
It is moments like these where a memory strikes prominently against my mind
Of standing in front of a statue of a muscular Greek titan
Bearing the burden of the entire world on his shoulders
I remembered his face; the expression of defeat as if carrying the world was a
punishment, which it was.
I wanted so badly to make him smile, to tell him that what he was holding was beautiful,
And so many call it their precious home.
I thought, “What if I told him his punishment was actually a responsibility? Would he
smile then?”
But that’s just the thing; Atlas is the reflection of most of us.
We see responsibility as a punishment.
But the truth is, responsibility is bestowed on everyone from birth to death.
We humans as a whole are obligated to take care of this world,
As the privileged are obligated to take care of the less fortunate,
As parents are obligated to take care of their children,
And this list goes on for about an eternity as well.
The human race is a rainbow,
And when each individual of every color, race, gender, age, and personality converge,
Perhaps we will stop seeing this world as a burden.
We will converge into one.
We will converge into Atlas.
This world is a responsibility that each and every one of us hold equally upon our own
shoulders.
We are titans, like Atlas, who must tighten up, not loosen up,
And come to realize the duties we have to the rest of humanity, it’s future, and Mother
Earth.
We can’t shallow up in our personal cocoons, hoping He’ll heal the world,
Because even He can’t fix everything by Himself
In lieu of waiting around for someone else to do our job,
We must break out of these chrysalises of catastrophe.
Who knows? Maybe we’ll emerge triumphant,
Because even the most beautiful of butterflies emerge from cocoons.
They say, “Practice makes perfect”
But “perfect” doesn’t exist,
Thus we can never build a world that’s perfect,
But we can build one that’s strong,
And if we keep endeavoring, that will happen.
So, where do we start?
Step 1. Take off the sunglasses.
Step 2. Grasp the hand of another.
Step 3. Step into the light of this brave new world.