My cousin won’t let me live it down that I once fell off a camel in the desert sands of Dubai. Since my fall from grace, at every family gathering, my cuzkin finds fresh new twists to describe the debacle of my dis-graceful dismount from that there dromedaire. We’re blood though, so, it’s now just old family lore. As we dine and cuzkin opines, laughter binds us and Grace redeems us. No hard feelings abide
Meanwhile… on stage left…
There is a big ole camel in the drawing room of the world and no ONE is calling for a spade or picking it up and using it to prod the camel, so he can vacate the premises. It’s difficult making room for a camel that has occupied your space. You’re bound to come to bumps with its humps. Yet, there it sits; like a Large Lion in Zion. No one wishes to bell that cat on the mat with the hump on its back..
NO ONE dares. ‘Camel’s been through a lot,’ they say. It wouldn’t be fair to hurt the feelings of the dromedaire. Or, maybe the mute are in fear of a kickback to the rear or maybe as they say, ‘all’s fair in Love and War. ‘But while The Camel sleeps, there’s No Love lost between the grownups in the fisticus.
But tell me why, o ye wise men from afar. Why must they hate each other so? I’d like to know. Why can’t they let it go? Is it because they bit each others’ fingers so?
But while Grown ass men play chicken and eat away at each others’ fingers….Why do they lie to the little children? Why tell them to go for donkey and camelback rides?
Why tell them to play and make nice when their little feelings get hurt?
Why tell them to git.. get over it, brush off their battered knees, untwist their tattered dungarees?
But wait… no worries…no more need for the children to pretend to be friends
There are no more playmates to make nice with. They’re all buried or burrowed.
They are all dead or dying- The little children and their friends!
The grown ups from both sides of the hallowed halls have killed them all.
O ye wise men!
Who opened up the gates and let all the camels in and the donkeys out into the killing fields?
Is it the grown ups?
Don’t look now, but while you go figure,
Take a peek at your fingers of your unsevered hands when you can
Ok, Do it NOW! while no one is looking….
See how soaked and sopping wet from the crimson flood? See how Steeped in Blood?
There between your stained phalanges drips the Blood of the Lamb, the Blood of the lifegiving camel and the blood of dead and dying, once playful kids (not goat kids)
There’s a camel in the room and no-one gets to ride it out of there because no-one has called the spade. Spade sits idle by a fiery hearth. Meanwhile, just across the hall a detachment of disheveled wisemen dismount and wallow in a dis-graceful bloodbath.
Le’Dash – One Dash To Make A Difference in this World
Le' D-ash 