Dunderheaded

 

Dunderheaded

Children subjected to medical experiments in Auschwitz.
[from The Pictorial History of the Holocaust, ed. Yitzhak Arad. New York: Macmillan, 1990]

Dunderheaded

It's a good trick if you can do it
and you can do it with winsome
sunny ways, placing the skills of
a thespian-born to the tedious task
of empathizing upon the grave
subject of genocide. The mullahs
of Iran set a rictus of scorn as they
contest the very notion of their
Aryan brethren plastering the
Holocaust into history while vowing
their effort will be far more effective.
On this solemn day of remembrance
Europe hastens to enrich its coffers
with Iranian trade and investment
just as surely as Europe's soil was
enriched with the byproduct of
carbonized Jewish lives consumed
in the Third Reich's crematoria.
But Canada has a junior Trudeau whose
official posting of commemoration
slides elegantly past awkward mention 
of Jews, while fulsomely lamenting
man's inhumanity to man. "On this
day", his statement waxes eloquently,
"we pay tribute to the memory of
the millions of victims murdered
during the Holocaust. We honour
those who survived atrocities at the
hands of the Nazi regime, and
welcome their courageous stories
of hope and perseverance", naming none
lest one give unintended offence.

On this day, we pay tribute to the memory of the millions of victims murdered during the Holocaust. We honour those who survived atrocities at the hands of the Nazi regime, and welcome their courageous stories of hope and perseverance.
The Holocaust is a stark reminder of the dangers and risks of allowing hate, prejudice, and discrimination to spread unchallenged. It also reminds us that silence must never be an option when humanity is threatened.
As we pause to educate ourselves and our families on the bitter lessons of the Holocaust, we also strengthen our resolve to work with domestic and international partners to continue defending human rights and condemning intolerance. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau

Intrusion

 

 

Man proposes nature disposes and so

should your plans for a briskly cold

winter day include a saunter

through frozen winter trails

to touch nature's raw mysterious base

yet be aware the forest has its own rules

of engagement. In the brief hush of

twilight when stealthy dusk begins

to infiltrate the fastness of that

elemental ecology the soft twitter

of birds as they settle for the night

the last scurry of squirrels as they

make for their nests prepares the

forest for daylight's expulsion where

above its canopy a crescent moon appears

wind no longer rustles dry leaves

the surrounding trees stand straight

as sentries questioning your presence

and all too soon your penetration within

that intimately closed system's unwelcome.

 

 

Unrepentant Guardians

 

 

One could claim them to be models of good 

behaviour even though such a statement is a 

bit of a stretch but they are endearing little 

creatures and as child proxies fulfill almost all 

expectations in companionship, entertainment 

and a focus for our parental void in our dotage. 

Two very small, black and furry, wide-eyed

Poodles intelligent and stubborn, devoted and 

demanding. Our thoughts are to provide them 

with security and opportunities to view the world 

as their own and they do vocally advertise their 

presence while leaving hints wherever they've been. 

We are however left troubled by their aversion to

the presence of others of their kind to whom

their hostility is beyond palpable and gives us

reason to question whether we have gone a tad

too far in patterning our little charges after

ourselves, leading to soul-searching introspection:

is it conceivable that we subconsciously emit

a similar, quieter air of resistance in the presence

of others like ourselves, or are our little charges

repaying in like kind their version of security?

 

 

The Comfort of Love

 

 

The soul is the essence of our existence

for we are what it is, even as it reflects what

we are; our consciousness of all that we see

hear and cling to, it is our working mind

our reminder of our being, incorporeal

an unknown life-essence, an impulse and

primal compulsion. If it can be seen anywhere

that place can be deep within the looking

glass of the eyes, ethereal and haunting.

The eyes of a child reflect surprise and

curiosity, trust and need, the soul emerging

to become what it will. As those eyes

record what they see they augment that

soul in a compendium of experience and

emotion the innocence replaced by other

ineffable reflections of humanity redolent

of hope and disappointment, regret and

self-remonstration, the fortunate among

them enveloped in the comfort of love. 

 

Leaving You Mute And Bemused

 

The outcome is predictable when experience 

and reasonable intelligence inform us of what 

to expect when we perform an oft-repeated

action. This kind of inductive reasoning is 

simply a matter  of routine observation with

nothing whatever in common to a predictive 

sense out of the ordinary. This is where the we 

named the subconscious moves into the arcane. 

Where our minds roam about in spheres we 

really have no idea exist much less that some 

peculiar sense obliquely advises us of something 

yet to occur. As when for example you think 

of someone or an event just as a sudden random

thought, unrelated to anything, someone you 

haven't seen or heard from in a long time

or some event that occurred at a remove in time

and to your astonishment (or blase acceptance)

that person moves once again into your life or

that event recurs leaving you mute and bemused.

 

The Politics of Cynicism

 

 

What a conundrum it is that most people

think of themselves as discerning of human

character and of course observation and

experience is a great aid in leading people

to the conclusion that the must untrustworthy

of professions is that of politicians, yet even

knowing this they obligingly vote for the most

charismatic of candidates who are blatantly 

egotistical, accomplished liars, hypocritical

authoritarian, rapacious and manipulative to

the end degree. With rare exceptions politicians 

seem to be born to the role, gifted with requisite

characteristics yet claim their sole motivation

is inspired by service to the public weal. They

have no real need to practice to deceive since 

it evolves so naturally within their psyches.

Despising the typecast candidate, the public

peers through their rose-coloured lenses to

distinguish their choice as dedicated and oh so

different, then when in office repent at leisure.

 

 

The Human Dilemma

 

 

What if the source of humanity's inability 

to improve itself and leave its baser instincts 

behind is lodged in its collective desire to be

better than it knows it is, feeling that it can be 

better and failing abjectly leading to conflict

 and misery for all involved, encouraging among 

the disaffected an errant embrace of sociopathy

as a more direct route making gains for the 

human element in minority to realize their own 

aspirations for chaos to reign. A bizarre defect 

within the majority which yearns for order and 

equality equating honeyed words of promise 

from those seeking power then producing nothing

of value but for their own ends to be achieved

antithetical to good government and public

usefulness. While the rare blunt-spoken candidate 

persuading the electorate he can deliver good 

for society that others have failed to do does 

just that in masterful strokes of judicious reasoning 

from a persona whose personal failings in decency 

mask the successes he is responsible for, leading

to his downfall and the return of the poseurs

producing ill government and the reality of 

failure. Choices so flawed and ill-starred

peace prizes are awarded to warmongers.