Friday

The stony ground

Humanity has been so much like a child
 With too many useful toys,
 Playing with each one that comes along,
 And discarding it when something
 Newer appears in its midst.

 We have been dilettantes and amateurs
 With some of our greatest notions
 For human betterment.
 We have been like spoilt children:
 We have been like tyrannical children;
 We have been impatient and imperious
 Demanding proof when listening is required,
 Tearing things down when they don't do
 What we want them to do
 (How much simpler to let things do only
 What they can do)
 Being uncreative about what seems dark
 And terrifying;
 Preferring only what seems easy
 And effortless;
 Asking about the numbers of a philosophy's
 Followers rather than examining
 The efficacy of its ideas;
 Wandering down blind alleys of populism
 That lead to concentration camps; 

Refusing to admit our vast crimes and mistakes
 Denying the horrors of the slave trade
 Minimising the reality of the gas chambers
 Tearing our hair out in futile attempts
 To reconcile civilisation with genocide,
 When civilisation (as we have come to accept it)
 Never did mean true universal goodness
 Of heart, but rather the self mythology
 Of a people, a race.
 No, neither the good in us
 Nor our capacity for evil are exhausted.
 And time will show just how young
 We are in our abilities,
 Our genius for good and evil.
 For all these strains, unexamined, unredeemed,
 Will find their higher fruition
 In the unlit centuries to come.

We carry with us, across the silver river
 Of the new age, many ambiguous
 And deadly seeds,
 And many seeds of illumination too.
 We are the sum total of the history
 That we have not truly examined.
 We are the carriers of history's
 Future diseases and cures.
 The sooner we face the spawn
 We carry within us in silence
 The better it will be.
 The sooner we admit our crimes to others,
 To other peoples, creeds, genders, species,
 The better and lighter the human
 Future will be.
 The more we deny, the greater will be the horrors
 And vengeances of time
 That wait in the wings
 Of the bloody drama of our future.

 Many beautiful thoughts have not yet sprouted
  In our deepest hearts and minds,
 Though they have lain there, within us,
 Lain waiting for thousands of years.
 The heart of humanity can
 Sometimes be a stony ground indeed.
 We speak the good words,
 But we do not live them.
 We perform the beautiful rituals,
 But don't embody them.
 We praise our capacity for reason,
 But are unreasonably intolerant
 Of other people's validity, and reasons.
 We deploy the finest attributes
 Of the mind and spirit
 To make ourselves the elect
 And to cast our fellow travellers
 On this earth into outer darkness.

 What a wonder is humanity:
 How marvellous its astonishing gift
 For hypocrisy.

 (Ben Okri)

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