I dream that one day I can tell my children most of bad things are gone.
I dream that one day I can tell them they don’t need to be afraid anymore.
Because I lived in a time when people were harassed, tortured, and killed for their colour.
But not them.
No. I will tell them nobody will judge them for how they were born.
Their mom might have gone through hard and stressful moments for being a girl, a woman.
But not them.
Their dad will explain how we both suffered from damaged relationships with already broken people.
But not them.
Their grandparents will tell them of other times. Times of war, times of uncertainty, of fear of the unknown.
But not them.
We will tell them about a time of progress, regression, technology, destruction, war and revolution.
But not them.
I will tell them about this unfair world I lived in. Where people are selected in society regarding physical aspects they didn’t choose. When people were judged by their feelings of identity towards themselves. When their own families turned their backs on them because they feared differences instead of celebrating them.
I will tell them of a time when people were not allowed to be who they were or wanted to be. I witnessed that.
But not them.
I will suffer every time I have to explain to them the horrible things people did to each others and to all around them.
That I loved in a world full of smoke from the burning forests others caused, a world of ugliness for people would throw their trash anywhere. Of a world where all our waste not only took beauty of nature but also harmed and killed species. Not for survival or twist of fate, but for greed, consumption, and false needs. I live in that world.
But they won’t.
Someday, I’m going to tell my children about human history. Of how we evolved. How we used our part to act in this world. Of how savage we were, and also on how we had moments of brilliance and ascendence. And of how long it took us to finally understand that we are all one.
I dream of a Golden Age where they will live most of their lives. Of all the right things for this world and for human beings that we don’t have.
But they will.
I understand that the beginning of my journey is not easy.
But not them.
I will tell them about how much I felt lonely, outsider, far from home.
But not them.
I will cry when I explain to them all the things that made me cry. Of how I struggled to be happy.
But they will be.
I will tell them all I know of this primitive world. Of landmarks of war, disasters, pain, suffering. On how these places became a remembrance and a resting place for all the suffering souls.
And they will. They will tell their children.
I will say to them that I was born in a world that should never have been.
But not them.
They shall be born on a new age, a new dawn, a turn of fate.
I wanna tell them I lived these times, so I know I did.
But not them.
11th June 2020
