Here Comes the Sun. Right.

I have a dream or a thing in my mind that when this war is over, we will all be smiling and this Peter Tosh version of Here Comes the Sun will be playing in the background.

And while the “smiles return to the faces” of the adults, the children will all be playing and we will start to live.

Because I’ve felt even before this war, that in Jamaica, we know how to have fun so well because we have essentially been unable to simply, live. It’s almost as if we make up for the fact that we can’t just do something like mindlessly take out the garbage, by imbibing ourselves with rum and partying until daylight. Because we can’t relax in something like taking our children to the park, we must show that we can let loose to music, for example.

So, at what cost must the sun, which will bring with it this final opportunity to simply live, come? Why couldn’t it have been free? Will it come? If it comes, what will be beneath the feet of those jubilant children? And their mothers, will they be wondering where their fathers are? Will they have more to smile about than just the daytime light?

If that sun comes, how can we really bask in it? Knowing that some, who barricaded by their limited lives, never even dreamt that this sun existed,  but paid for its unveiling, can we greet it smiling?

For many reasons, I don’t think it will come. At least not in my lifetime. So that conditional guilt can stay where it is. We have too many bad feelings carrying as it is.

But then, if it doesn’t come, then what? A life of what? Always having a lump in your chest? Taking on short memories as regards wrong doings, lies, political stupidity?  *sigh*

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