Help From So Far Away

We are humans. We fight for what we believe in, no matter what the cost. We struggle everyday, see the world in the angle we closed our mind to focus on, not knowing the possibility of another story, not finding a sign of life in some other form that negates ours, because we are humans �" creatures too afraid to be wrong. Too scared to admit that not everything we have believed in was true. It didn’t have to be this way. Everyone was a baby once.

            Somewhere out there, in a place where rebels and loyalists desire nothing more than to overthrow the other, babies die each time a bomb drops down to a place children once called home. It pains them. Their innocent eyes are tainted from the moment of their birth as the remnants of war scar such a beautiful land �" a land called Syria.

            Everyone was a baby once. But the babies grow up dirtying their hands with dust and coal as they shakily hold a rifle up front to fake bravery. Others choose to train their feet to run as fast as they can when they sense danger lurking around every corner. The rest choose to give up, their parents having no other choice but to instruct them to raise their arms in surrender, all for the sake of their lives. Some of them decide to join one side, instead. The others submit to the government. Thus, the waging war continues. And yet, they all forget the fact that everyone was a baby once.

            And here we sit, my fellow men, helplessly staring at the gruesome pictures. We can’t do anything. They’re too far away. But see how kind they are to us, for they never told us to die or to pity them. After all, if we recklessly interfere with the uncontrollable situation, we will die ourselves. And if we’re gone, who else is going to pray for them?

            And so I am writing this not to shame anyone, both Syrians and my fellow men, but to raise our awareness of a subject not often too talked about. One subject that is always avoided, as we are humans; too afraid to do something. This is a beautiful country from a land faraway, where merchants once called upon passers-by to take a glimpse of their wares, where children would run around happily with no guns nor knives required to defend themselves, where families sit around a feast for dinnertime, sharing stories about their fruitful days, and where the sky used to be clear and blue, the sun’s rays harshly setting upon the land. Still, the earthly soil remained youthful and firm. Plants used to grow here. Flowers used to fill the fertile land. It was always a cheerful, sunny day.

            But now we could do nothing else but watch as bombs go off, shootouts happen, smoke invades the once crisp air, and people are killed every day. So don’t close your eyes to the truth.

Because if I could send help from so far away, I would.