Today I saw things, I didn’t want to see. I was told things, that I did not want to hear. And as a result, I thought things, I did not want to think. That is not like me. But I will not resist, or bury them. I will not be angered because realities do not match my imaginings, or ignorance. I will be angered because of these realities.

A few posts ago I mentioned two young men who were going to be executed because they were in love. I included a picture of two different young men being led to the gallows for the same capitol “crime”. This image shocked a person, who told me they did not want to see such things, and that I am doing harm by perpetuating a climate of fear in showing that image. But the image does not create nor perpetuate fear. The fact that such things happen does. Knowledge does not perpetuate fear. Knowledge enables us deal with fear, and its cause. Awareness brings light, to darkness.

Today I saw things, I did not want to see. The images are purposefully hidden from us. They are images of what we are doing to other people in the world, and images of what those people are doing to our own people. We are not allowed to see the true images, in all their terrifying and tragic reality. The White House, the Pentagon and our own media companies believe that we should be protected from seeing even the images of the coffins of our dead soldiers, returning home for burial. These men and women were not invisible as they went into battle for their country. But when they are killed, they become invisible.

Perhaps they are shocking, having died. But we have allowed this war. We initiated this war. And as such, it is our obligation to look upon the face of each of the dead. It is our responsibility to become acutely aware of the sacrifices we require, and to weigh that sacrifice against our goal. Perhaps I am thick, but what exactly was that goal? What exactly is our goal? Why are these people dying? What are they dying for? Can anyone tell me? Hasn’t that oil agreement been signed yet?

The things I saw today, that I did not want to see, were not the faces of our own dead. It was not even the thousands more of our men and women who are injured, mutilated, and similarly invisible. It was images of families, and every day people. We have no conception of our impact upon the lives of people just like us, in Iraq. I won’t mention the hundreds of thousands of the dead, nor the millions injured. Nor the ethnically cleansed and cleared neighborhoods that can bring the “peace” numbers up to show that a troop surge worked. I won’t mention the carpet bombed neighborhoods, where their little houses are now dust and rubble. That’s all just collateral damage, and is to be expected in war.

I saw people’s faces, and learned their names. I met their families. I saw the father making breakfast of eggs boiled in tomatoes, in the little cupboard they had found to live. I saw their grandfathers, sitting motionless and staring.

I saw in each face a form of enlightenment: complete and helpless acceptance, devoid of joy, and sorrow so vast that it stretched into the cool numbness of nothingness. I saw images of people who were alive, yet utterly destroyed.

I will not mention children smiling, with large parts of their bodies missing. Nor will I speak of mothers trying to comb their daughter’s hair with grotesquely mutilated arms. I will ignore the old men sitting outside with parts of their faces missing, and the young men so handsome before, but now melted.

I have seen images of the dead, of people turned into opened and bloody carcasses. I have looked upon faces that will never again see or move. But the dead do not care if a dictator rules their country, or a “liberating” force. The dead are not concerned about food or water for their children. The dead do not remember what life was, nor worry what tomorrow might bring.

Today I saw things, I did not want to see. It was the face of the living. It was the face of the defeated, who will accept any fate we enact upon them. It was the face of the truly invisible: myself, revealed in a monstrous light, unaware.

We, as a people, have committed unforgivable atrocities upon others. Our excuses, both collectively and individually, be damned. We cannot account for this – we cannot reconcile it. But we must stop. We have to stop. There is nothing under the stars, or even the darkest night, to justify ourselves. Our soul as a nation, and individually, is in peril, if not already lost. If you doubt me, hold your tongue until you look upon the faces of those still living.