Numbed to the Martyr

By Larkin Harrington

Now, more often than before, the state of this country makes me want to vomit.

I become filled to the expanse of my being, all the way to my skin, with so much anger I begin to sob. Other times, more frequent now, I look away – turn outward, away from my outrage and myself – distract with the mundane and pleasant.

The rest is filled with too much beer and wine.

And I am not alone.

This rage is not a misguided disgust and disappointment in this country and what it stands for. It is born from the inherent hypocrisy serving as the foundation of this entire farcical establishment.

But our freedoms!” you say.

Our liberties! Our rights as Americans!

We’re the wealthiest superpower in the worldThe most prosperous! The best!”
Yes, indeed.I will concede to you.

However, this is precisely where the root of my anger and my indignation lies; grown from the confused observations of my youth.

From the mouths of babes.

How can you stand so tall on your pillar of righteousness, touting the beauty of this nation that has so much to offer and nothing to give?

Where the few want for nothing while the rest want for everything? 

Where burning the candle at both ends is a matter of choice, even if it means feeding your family? Where the right to choose exists for all – excluding, of course, everyone whose choices matter? Who choose to live the way they choose to live without fear of violence?

Your beautiful country was built upon bloodied soil. Upon lies and evil and greed. And upon that soil it remains.

My rage is borne from the glaring hypocrisy of this state.

I cannot praise a country that refuses to stand by the tenants upon which it was (supposedly) raised.

Where is the justice?

As I watch this all unravel, this epidemic spread ….I can only see the beginning of an end. An end to capitalist tyranny. An end to the brutalization of my black, latinX brothers and sisters. An end to the condoned murder of my womenX, transgender, queer family. An end to the appropriation and decimation of native cultures.An end to this disease of hypocrisy.

For all of this to end, this hulking monument to fascism must completely collapse – be torn asunder, ripped ragged at its festering seams.

Burned to the ground.

I don’t know how to tear it down. Nor do the people of my generation as a whole. Maybe the next generation holds the last vestiges of hope and resilience. 

But the corrupt nature of this broken, abysmal machine has beaten the fight out of most of us. What will galvanize us? What, if anything, will churn our collective blood so hot that all of us at once will come screaming over the barricade and bring it all crashing down?

It certainly was not the prison camps at our border. The massacre of children in their schools.T he murders in plain daylight of black youth by those meant to protect us. I know why my generation is at a loss. Because I am too. We all know, we all see, we all care. But what, or who, will lead us in the charge? Joan at her pyre comes to mind. As does Rev. Martin Luther. Jesus even?

But it seems as though our world is now numbed to the martyr.

So, what now?

This epidemic has shown me (and the world) the error in our complacency and feeling of safety, our apathy.

We watch as our economy begins to collapse, due not to billionaires and their missteps or accomplishments alone; but to the “non-essential” work forces.

…. In the brutalized, underpaid and woefully forgotten masses.

Is this not where we should think to begin?

Hold those responsible hostages with their own purse strings?

I, for one, think it is time for accountability.

I call for those of us with enough, to prepare to stand for and protect those without, as we wait for the match that will ignite this cleansing fire of retribution and justice.


I am a disillusioned twenty-something currently working as a veterinary assistant. I have always worked with animals, and always will. Although I would like to broaden my scope to help the human animal, I couldn’t think of where to begin. For now I have settled for using my voice when and where I can. Trying to better myself day by day. Fighting the descent into apathy. Dreaming of a new era of justice.

Larkin Harrington

Published by amplifireproject

Creative Coordinator of Amplifire Project.

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