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Your Myanmar is cancerous
My body writhes from phantom pain. The bodies of my brothers and sisters are suffering. Suffering is uniting our brown and yellow bodies. Our bodies are being violated. Our bodies are fighting back. Our bodies are mourning. Our bodies are surviving. His body, her body, my body is still hungry. Hungry for freedom.
Starvation breeds zealousness in my body. My body is her body, his body, and our bodies. An invisible force of hunger bleeds into existence. They thought nothing exists in a vacuum. So, they make us the objects of nothing. They forget that nothing gives birth to everything. Did you hear the Big Bang? Time just started.
Someone said the universe is expanding. Am I expanding? Because I am still inside her womb. I can’t feel the expansion of space. Some shouts, “how about extension in space?”. Oh yes, I feel my extension, her extension, his extension, and our extension. Suffering is currently affirming our extension in space like a good physicist. We need a doctor, not a physicist. Our bodies need healing.
“Good news,” said the doctor, and I perked right up. The doctor continues to say, “We caught it early. Your cancer has not spread to other major organs. It is only in Myanmar. We can surgically remove it without compromising your quality of life.” Maybe he is right. I wonder if he would say the same things to himself. So, I said, “Hey…
