The sun is out and the skies a shade of blue. Summer is coming and despite the near poor quality of air in this city, I still find the skies pretty, especially on days like these. The squall the night before has purged, hopefully, some of the grime out. Although given the morning paper’s headlines, for politics and people, a different matter altogether.
This evening we chatted, my mum and I. They’ve lost their brains, she says. And I could not agree with her more. Decency and morals. I think we lost that somewhere between the locker room banter and dedicate your vote for the fallen diatribe.
Turns out if we post something on social media, even if it means just a photograph or video that was good or kind, there is little or no time lost in viciously attacking it, simply because it belonged to the ‘other’ side.
What a sad reflection of our times indeed when one has to declare, take sides or be counted out, be marked as a traitor. There is no room for discourse, forget healthy debates. One must either be this or that.
What if I just want to be me? What if I just want to share what is on my heart? Why must I belong in a box or a category? I’ve spoken on that before. On labels and how quickly the human race decides which one we should belong to.
Personally? I would rather not stick to labels. I’ve been labelled far too many times for my liking. From being called a ‘chinki’ to not being North-east enough - yeah, why are you so dark anyway? And why can’t you speak the language anyway?
To be honest, I was eight then, living close to the tropics and pretty much burnt under the sun, hence the darker complexion. And no, I can’t speak the language, having lived most of my life, outside my home state. I do speak, and can read and write four languages though.
Yes; labels. To not being a true Loreto-ite versus not being ‘Christian’ enough. Yup. Such a thing as that apparently. Methinks the good Lord would beg to differ. But like I said, I’m not going to draw myself into a box or a label. Seems terribly out of fashion these days. But then again, not a fashionista either, so there.
Coming back to skies. I’ve always been partial to blue. The blue rolling hills of home, the lush blue hydrangeas and primulas that fill your senses on the winding road home and yes the skies. Blue with a fierceness that will cling to your soul and leave you wanting for more.
So yes when I feel lost and overwhelmed I look up. The skies may be a slow shade of blue but somewhere across the great arc lies home. And that will always be with me, through the muck and mire, in the midst of the chaos and the noise. Slow shades of blue…
This evening we chatted, my mum and I. They’ve lost their brains, she says. And I could not agree with her more. Decency and morals. I think we lost that somewhere between the locker room banter and dedicate your vote for the fallen diatribe.
Turns out if we post something on social media, even if it means just a photograph or video that was good or kind, there is little or no time lost in viciously attacking it, simply because it belonged to the ‘other’ side.
What a sad reflection of our times indeed when one has to declare, take sides or be counted out, be marked as a traitor. There is no room for discourse, forget healthy debates. One must either be this or that.
What if I just want to be me? What if I just want to share what is on my heart? Why must I belong in a box or a category? I’ve spoken on that before. On labels and how quickly the human race decides which one we should belong to.
Personally? I would rather not stick to labels. I’ve been labelled far too many times for my liking. From being called a ‘chinki’ to not being North-east enough - yeah, why are you so dark anyway? And why can’t you speak the language anyway?
To be honest, I was eight then, living close to the tropics and pretty much burnt under the sun, hence the darker complexion. And no, I can’t speak the language, having lived most of my life, outside my home state. I do speak, and can read and write four languages though.
Yes; labels. To not being a true Loreto-ite versus not being ‘Christian’ enough. Yup. Such a thing as that apparently. Methinks the good Lord would beg to differ. But like I said, I’m not going to draw myself into a box or a label. Seems terribly out of fashion these days. But then again, not a fashionista either, so there.
Coming back to skies. I’ve always been partial to blue. The blue rolling hills of home, the lush blue hydrangeas and primulas that fill your senses on the winding road home and yes the skies. Blue with a fierceness that will cling to your soul and leave you wanting for more.
So yes when I feel lost and overwhelmed I look up. The skies may be a slow shade of blue but somewhere across the great arc lies home. And that will always be with me, through the muck and mire, in the midst of the chaos and the noise. Slow shades of blue…
Slow shades of blue
A quiet sigh,
A whisper, of
Unending
Blue
Sweet lies
The cradle of
Forgotten
Blue
Summer skies
Everywhere
Slow shades of
Blue
~ Judith Vaddi
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