Why is it that we as a human species are often afraid to speak the truth? Why do we "gentle" what we say by using euphemisms and language that softens the true meaning behind them? Naomi Shihab Nye wrote this poem about an incident in the West Bank when a young man was murdered by a bullet fired by an Israeli army official. The officer used live ammunition to break up Palestinian youths who were throwing rocks, and the bullet struck and murdered Zeid who was in his home at the time. She objects to the term "stray bullet" and highlights the softening implications of the word "stray." I love the line, "no bullet like a worried cat/crouching under a bush."
Here's the reality--live ammunition kills and injures, and anytime a bullet is fired there exists that likelihood. This isn't just an issue in other countries, but everywhere including in our own neighborhoods in Chicago. A google search for "stray bullets Chicago" pulled up too many articles of people whose lives were ended by bullets, of families and friends who will forever be without their loved one. Does "naming it mildly" minimize the outrage and thus lessen the action that people take? Leave your thoughts about Nye's poem in the comments section.
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