Blood screams "Enough"... Give us Peace

No more, please no more. 

The voice within screams as my eyes go through pictures of the gruesome massacre in Syria.  The blood loses its colour, the limbs are like wood. Were the people who perpetrated such an act on innocent children and women, zombies who had no heart or head? How have we, the people, come to such times? 

The anguish is unspoken and deep, as if snake venom had been smeared on the skin; as if somebody force fed me some disinfectant cleaner. The putrid vomit erupts from within, yet I am unable to spit it out. My eyes refuse to shed tears of any kind, be it pain or horror. It is marble and opaque. 

When faith is shaken, one often feels like a discarded piece of furniture, lying in a corner of the garden, rain and Sun, both tearing down the last bits of its dignity. Today, as I sit on my bed, with the four-walled enclosure I sometimes refer as "My Room", a sense of abandonment washes over me. I feel orphaned; discarded by my own fellow beings, just like they butchered their brethren mercilessly in Syria. 

We are a bunch of living oxymorons. We are cowards who run for our lives and keep numb when devastation strikes our neighbour's home. At the same time we are monsters, who devour everything including infants that may come in our way to appease our shameless greed.  

We can cry hoarse each day that we want peace, that violence shall not be tolerated. Yet, it is us, who have once again sown the seeds of violence and blood bath in the psyche of the world which stood helplessly, watching the massacre and in the lives of those who lost their kith and kin to such a diabolic act befitting Hell, if the latter exists.

It can just be a nerve rattling irony that innocent infants, children and women met such a horrific end to now rest in eternal peace.

Is this the lone, elusive chance to peace we have today? Our death?