Elephant in the Room

June 11, 2017

There was an elephant in the room, hiding in plain sight, but you let it go unnoticed. Because you'd rather let it pass than talk about it. But the thing is, elephants don't pass easy. Often they grow. Too big, to make you claustrophobic; too big for this room and one of us to accommodate their peace of mind here anymore. Remember when we talked about the propaganda we needed to overthrow? But when it came the time to rebel and revolt, your feet were cold and snuck in a blanket at your home. I waited for you at the gate, on the day when we were to go join the parade. You told me your throat was too soar to raise a roar, and your mom too uncomfortable for you to be a part of THAT crowd. But you were a nice person. But you were too nice a guy. Every day when I overstepped the border, you never uttered a word or look me in the eye. I thought you didn't notice, but your squirm was too weak for anyone to notice. And one day, when the water overflowed, and we were drowning in our boat, you left like a ghost who never existed. Like it was just all in my head, that we ever drifted. There would have been that border if you'd ever point it out, but hey, you never address the elephant in the room. We don't talk about our problems, when things get ugly, we close our eyes, not stare at that grotesque, and let it resist, pass and vanish away. You, always a nice person. You too were an asshole. You always in your demeanour. You, always way too nice. . . . “Nice people made the best Nazis. My mom grew up next to them. They got along, refused to make waves, looked the other way when things got ugly and focused on happier things than ‘politics,’” wrote Shulman, whose mother Elizabeth was born in Munich in 1934 and grew up in Nazi Germany. “They were lovely people who turned their heads as their neighbours were dragged away. You know who weren’t nice people? Resisters.”


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