Greetings, freewriters
Time flew and I was not able to meet the deadline for the WeWrite contest. I was going to work with any of my daughters, @imabby17 or @manujune, but due to different complications the illustrations for the freewrite were not ready on time. I decided to post it anyway, just as a freewrite since the topic hit home and I needed to get that out of my system.

_{Original photography taken some time ago from the ER of Cumanás central "Hospital"}

(More than) Ten Years of Darkness

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It’s been actually more than 20 years. The first 10 were like the blinding light that precedes the blast; then, darkness wrapped us, mind and soul, under a red sweeping cloud of dust.

Every promise of a new life was actually a piece of sailcloth we were adding to the dome that covered every aspect of our lives. It was meant to protect us, but walls can also isolate.

Some walls are harder to bring down, even if they do not hold any structure. They get reinforced by every act of omission, by every acceptance, by every adjustment that we make to a state of things that take us a step farther from the life we had, two steps farther from the life others have, three steps farther from an ideal life.
Twenty years may not be a big deal in Gardel’s tango, but it is in real life. 10 years alone, buried in deprivation and despair can make the descent into darkness irreversible.

We may say we had a story of biblical proportions. It even started with big flood. Only this time the flood did not cleanse our land to introduce new and better life, values, or visions. The flood was an advance on even more gruesome times to come. Thirty thousand souls were dragged by the mud that drew a clear gash on the mountains of La Guaira; a warning that could be seen light years away by those willing to.

The floating bodies of thirty thousand souls were just the down payment for stupidity, arrogance, and intellectual sloth. We proudly accepted that we did not need help to recover from such a blow; then we had to accept that we did not need help to recover from other blows. Then, we were like the abused woman who denies any blows at all. Now we desperately cry for assistance to help us remove a cloak that sucks the oxygen from our lungs, but as it happened to the boy who cried wolf, after a while no one listens.

We’ve been too long in the dark. We’ve been too long hidden in silent shame; not so much because we did not yell at the oppressor, but because the dome built upon us had been efficient enough.

The ones who were supposed to rescue us were being entertained in the living room with fine hors d’oeuvres while in the back room we were held hostage. Doors of fake news and fancy official facts and figures were thick enough to contain our plead.

We keep waiting in the dark. “No evil lasts a hundred years,” they say; “no body would stand it”. This last part is true, which actually means that the evil can last more than 100 years. Once in a while the light bulb flickers. Power should be back any moment, but we have no radio, no papers, no television, no reliable messengers; so it is hard to tell. They say your eyesight can adapt to the dark. After 10 years of darkness, I can’t tell no difference.

_{Original photogrphy of Puente Guzman Blanco, now renamed Luis Mariano Rivera, under construction}

Thanks for your visit