The Injustice of Poverty

We see the inequality. The unfairness; The world has left you behind, staggering across the desert. Hungry and alone; chasing after an idea that the slow march of time will one day stop for you to catch up.

We hear you cry out, begging to be heard. Pleading to an unseen creator. “Help me”, you shout. Your neck craned upward toward the heavens. Your voice drown out by the bitter winds of selfishness and greed.

We feel your heartache at the injustice of poverty. The painful recognition that you have done nothing to deserve the life that you live, that simply because you came into existence you will be trapped until you die.

We act as though you don’t exist, placated by the thought that your time will come in the afterlife, when the unseen creator will bestow upon you the glory that you deserve.

We refuse to admit that we are wrong.

How Different We Are

I often struggle with how much the world hates itself.

We’re all floating around, packed together on a microscopic speck in an infinite universe, and the only thing we can do is point out how different we are from those around us. The more we point out the differences, the more glaring they become, as if they actually matter. We forget about our basic needs and instead make choices based on fear of the unknown. We spew vile rhetoric with the single goal of alienating those who are already alone, and shirk the responsibility as a species to help those less fortunate.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe as a species, our only goal is to further our own interests. I hope that’s not the case.