I don’t hate anyone, he cries, looking up at her
she wears her golden robe
taking steps that lead to his level
thousands of years
still her children cannot see
the time has come
for some truth-telling
my son-of-sons, she says, kneeling before him as any caring mother would
the opposite of love is not hate
have you seen hate’s form in the lives you represent?
hate, like Love, is fire
gentle or bold
simmering or ablaze
they are twins, you see
potent in birth and death
as you surely noticed
motivating you to serve, defend and protect
Love stirs pain at the sight of pain, hate stirs satisfaction for the same
Love asks while hate commands
they are too similar to stand far apart
my little wonder, she says, adoring his buried innocence masked in sin
the opposite of love is not hate
how can it be?
far worse rules that domain
colder than ice, I assure you, my sweet
a gaping hole that grows wide is love’s sworn enemy
the boy trembles at the thought, reaching for her comfort
she lets him hold her around the neck, squeezes him close for extra protection
the opposite of love, she whispers in his ear
is indifference
yours to be exact
your silence, my darling
your emptiness inside
a creeping death of the Love I gave you before you left
you sit in a circle of friends who look and sound like you. You say, they should all be killed
cleared off the land claimed by another
they don’t deserve to be free, you say
to which your friends largely agree
men say, no, not them, in boardrooms, trade unions, in recruitment and promotions
their locked doors, rules and practices hidden behind smiles
their preference for a mirror image lurking under claims of merit-driven lifestyles
when girls lie, use and cheat
when boys objectify, ignoring consent
when micro-needled skin and inflated lips hold more value than wrinkled hands and faces
while blonde is a political statement
rather than a shade for all races
when popularity trumps integrity
when profit sustains poverty
when us is not them
i not you
Indifference, my baby boy, is the shadowy plain that lies between your goodness
oxygen to your evils
a wretchedness, self-serving and sustaining
a poison, remaining
answerable to no one
without wisdom
or end
what is hate, my son
compared to spiritual devastation
wars
famine
a withering planet
rape
exploitation
control and domination
they are not us, indifference declares
she is not a proper woman
he is not a worthy man
the poor are called a problem
the stateless desperate, even more
not me, indifference spews, a nose curved in disgust
but to share is to lose, the little boy pouts
his worry constricting his throat
to win is to be free, he lets’s out
and at once, she knows he believes
she sees her boy fully this time
how these thousands of years have taught him so little
lost and afraid
torn up inside
she takes him by the shoulders
steadying him against the storm
the inner battle between shadow and light
what has indifference cost you, baby?
she looks him deep in his eyes
blue
brown
green
grey
of no matter, except to him and those he considers his kind
for centuries, you have used this inner death to your advantage
spinning on an axis of torment and self-gain
a power self-directed and self-made
you live in constant spiritual terror
you must see
pouring suffering onto a world
I made clean and green
destroying my precious pearl
without concern for your own demise
this is the moment, she thinks
she has to say
my beloved
my last hope
look unto me
see what I see
The opposite of love was never hate
you were wrong
and it’s not too late
Love’s antonym is nothingness
An endemic, internal nothing
Love’s opposite is your failure to feel
being numb to your own destruction
.
.
.
.
mother and son stand in silence
he knows what she says is true
his isolation
his fear of losing
the thirst for immortality
an urge to control
the time-frozen comfort he believes he is owed
an endless game of conquering at any price
there’s never enough for her boy, her most prized creation
no pain worth honouring to its fullest
rather, he chooses an endless performance
of decorative words and gestures
in great halls
wearing dapper suits
in front of rows of important faces
inside dwells the same mess keeping him trapped and alone
i won’t survive, he finally admits
pain streaming down his cheeks
she pulls him in, hugging him tight
kissing him on his soft cheek
no, you won’t, his mother says
you will thrive
but first, my cherub, my most precious love, you will have to let go of winning to stay alive
Published June 27, 2024, thebrusselsreview.com