Miss Sarajevo
The high school auditoriums darken for the enticing promenade to come. The rooms have been divided up according to the doctrines that sprung forth from the seats. There are those wishing to be on the bandwagon and those what wish to blow it up. Then, there are those who just like to watch it all. Still, she is dazzling. If you look closely into her eyes, you can hardly envision the tragedy that the mind endures. I wish to be there when she strokes the brush on the canvas in a self-portrait. I wish to be there, riding on the clam where the birth takes place and we celebrate anew. Her lips are very delicate as the dress that adorns her graceful shape. She is the dream of Pygmalion in the land where definitions have been written up and thrown away. How I love her as she stands there. And yet, there is a scorn I feel at this moment. The males all stand up to watch the coronation unfold and to either gawk or drool over perverse matters. The females all stand up to protest against the foundations that degrade their new positions of power. She is hideously transformed into an issue, a standard, a measuring stick and a point of argument. My own ears block out the explosions on the outskirts of town. I have become deaf to the sulfurous fumes and emissions from ideological conflicts. But my own eyes water from the melting of dreams and the bitter taste of reality. Why destroy I say? Why must the panelists and the side commentators exist to know everything? Should the water supply become sedated and tranquilized to ease the tensions and paranoia that linger? Why must everything be about happiness and safe-zones? Is there an interpretation of DON’T TREAD UPON ME I have failed to miss? Can’t the phrases just be left alone, preserved underneath the glass display? Can’t you just blot out the bombs and let life to live? My darling, who lies at my side, Don’t worry about my own frustrations. The world is just a nightmare that will soon end. I soon look towards the east where the building can still be found. The demons have left their angelic disguises behind. The chirping of birds can be still found. You can now reign in the time of peace and I can be your loyal subject again. Sleep well my love. Before I rest, let me gaze upon your beauty just a while longer, while the moon is still illuminated.
Date of First Draft: 13 June 1999
Influence: The eponymous Passengers (U2 + Brian Eno) song