The Things That Radicalized You.

Selfish society will kill itself in its own race for supremacy. I will end up being a victim of this unjustly—and more than likely one of the first to die. -- Dave Mitchell, Letter from a chain-wrought chapel (Matsqui, BC, 2004).

And then he did. Just like a prophecy.

So there on the floor of ICU, while my brother's body gave way to descending breaths, something vital left me. An innocence, maybe. Something I couldn't unsee. For it was then that I was cracked wide open—fully attuned to the horrors of the world.

But maybe it didn't exactly start with that because ever since I was small I could spot social maladies that others couldn't—or didn't want to. I clocked every disparity and injustice. Every subtle sign of suffering. Every child that hadn't been fed and watered according to instructions. Every seed that didn't fall on fertile soil. Every us versus them and have and have not and I was told my heart was too pulpy because hey, you can't save every dying bird, anyway. I don't know why you try.

And how dare you stand up to any man because it's a boy's world baby and you might as well get used to it. But if you're pretty enough you might just make it.

And maybe it's because my dad woke up my mom by lighting firecrackers in her ears or maybe it's because I saw how quickly you become blind when you stare at the sun or maybe it's because I understand how easy it is to overlook the sorrow of others when you're distracted by your own.

But now I see that it's not just the way life is. I see that things could be different if we just had the courage to try. For we are the monsters—those who hoard, who build empires on the backs of the oppressed. Perhaps if I can tear the greed from my chest, thread by thread, and howl incantations of dissent into the forgotten corners just to hear them echo back, maybe the spell can be broken in others too.

Something tells me I have to try.