If My Voice Is Not Reaching You
Afzal Ahmed Syed
If my voice is not reaching you
add to it the echo—
echo of ancient epics
And to that—
a princess
And to the princess—your beauty
And to your beauty—
a lover's heart
And in the lover's heart
a dagger
There always has to be a dagger, doesn't there? Tragedy sells far better than bliss. Happiness is awesome, don't get me wrong, but it's the rough patches that show you, and the entire world, if anyone is watching, who you really are.
Think about the people you know, or think you know, like celebrities, who appear to have it all, who appear to be really, really happy. Now look at the legions of resentful people surrounding them, just waiting, hoping beyond hope, for tragedy to strike, and strike hard.
We humans love incredible success stories, romances, tales of heroism, but oh man, do we love to see it all go south, for the riches to turn to rags, love to fester like a cancer, heroes to disappoint and betray.
Why? Ask Aristotle. We love blood-soaked tragedy. Somebody else's, of course, so we can live vicariously, wallow in virtual muck, offer righteous platitudes, prurient insights,and be seriously relieved that we dodged yet another bullet.
Gone With the Wind wouldn't have been the emotional TKO if Rhett had forgiven Scarlett and taken her into his arms, instead of telling the narcissistic little brat he'd had enough of her fiddle-de-deeing b.s. by declaring, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." That damn was pretty big expletive news in 1939,definitely pre-Trarintino effing, effing, effing, effing f-bomb era.
Back to the dagger in the heart: not all love stories have to end in tragedy, contempt, or apathy. Some love stories can be boring, as in gentle, loving, unselfish, genuine.
Hmmm, I suppose I'm a glass half full kinda' gal, after all. But, don't expect me to start watching romantic comedies any time soon.
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