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Today's rhaps is on ... Gallipoli

Julie-Ann Vellios – 2013 Gallipoli Art Prize Finalist

​George Floyd did not ask to be sacrificed. He was kidnapped and tortured based on the lie of his inferiority, his lack of the right to be equal. Those who had his back had guns trained on them as well, based on this same lie.

Aleksei Navalny did not originally ask to be sacrificed. His assasination attempt was based on the lie of his inferiority, his lack of the right to be equal. To save his people he then chose to sacrifice himself to force open the lie, returning to the place where they would try to kill him again. If no one has his back he will die this time.

We yell and scream helplessly from the side as we watch them die, bodies thrown off Tigray cliffs and slaughtered on Mozambique hillsides, in the name of the lie that they do not deserve life.

How can we have your back?

To protest is to die with you, right?

When the world is Gallipoli, we die on a Turkish cliff far from home, like Australian boys sent to be brave, yet sacrificed brutally in the trenches on the basis of a lie. The lie that others are more deserving of life, that low in the ranks we will charge into death. We die for their sakes, the ones engineering the hatred.

But now even those following the Revolutionary Martyr in Jerusalem have joined the wealthy Romans, at Mar-a-Lago and in Putin's palace! What now?

Father forgive them for they know not what they do?

Really? That's it? Thoughts and prayers for our murderers?

I am so tired!

In 1736 Bach wrote melody and harmony to anonymous lyrics expressing desire for the peace of death, "Come, sweet death, come, blessed rest, come for me in peace."


That's all we want. Peace.

Peace for aching, tired bones, peace after the brutal weight of this world.

Friede...weil ich der Welt bin müde. Peace...because I'm tired of this world.

So we sing to rise again, we swing our chariots low for Grace to lift us up once more. For Spirit to sustain and transform our brittle selves in the lost prisons of war, for all Apartheids to cease, for the cell doors to swing open, for the Roman rulers to soften, for hatred to weaken its grasp and let us breathe.

Before death, please.

We need Peace before death.

Peace after death will come, when earthly hope is lost.

Komm süßer Tod, komm selge Ruh! Komm, führe mich in Friede, weil ich der Welt bin müde, komm, ich wart auf dich, komm bald und führe mich, drück mir die Augen zu Komm selge Ruh!

J. S. Bach "Komm, süßer Tod" 1736

6 APRIL 2021

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