Cruel questions

The decapitated wasp head still bit and chewed at anything in front of it’s face. Meanwhile, a little further away on the windowsill, the body arched and the tiny black needle stinger jabbed and jabbed. I watched the two separate parts do this for twenty minutes, sometimes prodding and leaning right in close for a better look. Was the wasp alive or were the spasms of post-death aping the angry feelings of a yellow and black soul? As an eight year old I couldn’t work it out. I still can’t, come to think of it. I guess I could look it up right now but I think it’ll change an entire perspective I have of cruelty, death, and the religious ideology of a warped little boy. And memories can’t remake themselves, I don’t care what some bearded Nobel prize-winner tells me after being locked in a laboratory for ten years. Lab chemicals can do strange things to a mind, and so can academic isolation. As an eight year old I tested things for myself: ‘O Lord receive this wasp…..shit, is it dead yet? Send me a sign.’ Nothing.

A poll of UK Christians yesterday showed that a little less than three quarters of them believed in the resurrection of Jesus following his crucifixion, and just over half of all Christians said they believed in Heaven/Hell/some form of afterlife. Is this important?

I don’t know. And I doubt you do either. There’s only one way of finding out and we’ll all get our answer to that particular sticky question in the end – heart attack, eaten by a bear, it doesn’t matter how you get there, just be assured you will eventually see the truth. Or not. One thing for certain is you’ll never be able to tell the answer to the rest of us back here scrabbling in the human filth of massacres, war, and enforced poverty. It’s hard to hear spiritual whispers when you’re choking on nerve agents or blown out of your hospital bed by a cruise missile.

Too many horrifying things in the News today. Too many to list and actively mull over with any sense of focus or clarity. Too much death and too many powerful countries circling each other waving bombs that could destroy the world many times over – wasps included. Why? The Psychiatrists tell me I’m crazy, but right now I wonder if it’s you instead. Why not? Indeed.

Today I will not torture anything or anyone, I won’t kill, and I promise I will try to stay alive. Questions are ok, but only if you are ready for the answers.


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