These Words Are For You: Help Them

These words are for you:

If you’re reading this it’s because you’re supposed to be reading it.

Half of Syria’s civilians have left their homes for a good reason. Almost half of those have left their country for a good reason.

Help them. Help those who are still there to get out.

I tell you: get the civilians out of there because wrath will rain down on that place.

Women, children, fathers, brothers, sisters, grandparents … get them out of there, all who wish to go.

Yes I know how many are already doing everything they can; and no I’m not some crazy nut. I’m a little old gramma lady in the middle of nowhere who cannot herself go and help, who cannot even contribute but with my Voice.

People who are abusing this situation for your own gain, stop it. Help them; just help them.

People who are able to help but are not, stop dicking around about it and pitch in.

People who are fretting about terrorists coming among us, cut it out already. These are families who are FLEEING terrorism. Do you really think they’re on the side of those from whom they flee? Get real.

From around the globe come the pleas of people like me, for those who can get innocent civilians out of a war zone to do so and to do it quickly. So many have already come out; so many more remain in danger.

If I had the means … alas I do not … perhaps you do … perhaps you will be the one to find a way to help one of those families, just one of them.

And I weep.

I weep for them, and for a world which has allowed such things to come into being.

I weep for Russia.

I weep for the United States.

I weep for China.

I weep for Germany who cannot alone stem this tide. I weep for those who are helping, overwhelmed at every turn.

I weep for Europe.

I weep.

Not that it does any good for me to weep. My tears will not put food into a child’s belly. It will not ease the heart of a mother who fears for her family.

If I’m this affected from so great a distance, how must those be affected who are in the midst of it all?

Already the tide begins to turn; it is in the very air of our world.

‘Hurry, hurry,’ comes the message, through me to you. ‘Help them, help them. Get them out of there.’

If that place is to run red, let it not be with civilian blood, let it not be innocent blood that runs. 

Hurry, hurry. Russia, China, United States, Europe … all who are already pushed to the limit, bear up for a little longer … help is coming.

Can you not feel the rising of the wind? Can you not sense the turning of the tide? Can you not hear the coming of a whirlwind? Can you not see into the hearts of the people of our world, the compassion fused with outrage?

Yes.

If you are reading this, yes you can feel, sense, hear, and see.

If you are reading this and happen to be INFJ, turn not away from the winds that now ride the air, nor from the tides that would overwhelm you, nor from the sound of the whirling wind, nor from the sight of our hearts. Instead, embrace it all, let it pass through you strengthened and send it back out again. Yes I know it hurts. But it passes as it needs to.

Help them.

Get them out of there.

These people too have roles to play in the future of our world; this fragmented nation of civilians in flight from their own homeland, at the mercy of our bigger world.

Show mercy.

Help them.

Hurry.

Uffda. From whence come these words? I cannot help but think they are not entirely mine own. They belong to all of us I think.