One house on the street caught fire, the family ran from the home, grabbing what possessions they may.
As they waited for help to come, the father grabbed a hose and frantically tried to save what was his.
His neighbors came outside, watching in horror, thinking not of his family, but of their own.
The silence was broken by the siren screams of rescue as help arrived.
But as the rescuers tried to make their way down the street, neighbors demanding that their homes be protected, stopped them.
“Our homes, our homes!!” They cried, “My home, my house, this is my life, this matters to me, protect me!!”
The rescuers saw the burning home, but, instead due to the cries of the people; they worked on all the houses on the street, one by one.
By the time they got to the burning house, it was too late. There was nothing to save, no words left for the family, now homeless, now hopeless.
As the sun rose, all the people were asleep in their beds, except for one, the family of the Burning House.
Yes, all houses matter ~ but mine is not on fire ~ we need to help the ones who are.
Today’s Musing: “Imagine that each house represents a person, every house is different, yet the same” ~ #girlwithguitar
#girlwithguitar #RacismIsReal
