a few tears from wide open eyes

this isn't the first time someone has screamed bloody murder and no one listened and no one cared. Just ask Kitty Genovese.

And who knows if I would be any better, but I like to believe I would have picked up the phone or run out into the street with my baseball bat instead of turning up my tv or rolling over, and so even though at the moment I am not among the numbers on the front lines, I would rather wear out what little voice I have howling at those who think they can sleep through this than wash my Pilate's hands like them, satisfied with the absolution of the polled voice of the angry crowd, "This is the violence we choose."

Not all choices are equal and if your sleep isn't troubled having made this one, having cast your lot with this stake in the world, then I hope to scream until it is. If you are sleeping restfully with your enforced ignorance and carefully selected information, you should be ashamed. You may keep your conscience at bay for now but one day it will howl like I do and you will be old and it will be too late to do anything about it, and you can make excuses to your grandkids and they may even forgive you or not even know that it could have been different.

But you should know this now: it didn't have to be this way.