Thursday, July 1, 2010

Tuned in

For not being much of a TV-watcher, I sometimes get made fun of for ordering two (count 'em, two!) premium channels: TV5Monde (French) and RaiItalia (Italian). But tonight I was reminded of why I keep them in my package. Not only do they help me maintain language skills, but they also consistently have beautiful, artistic films I would never find through Netflix or iTunes; and vegging out is still somewhat intellectually engaging when I turn to one of these channels instead of the reality TV alternatives.

Tonight I happened to catch the last two-thirds of a WWII movie called 'Zone Libre' (Free Zone). I won't go into too much detail but the movie focuses on one part of a family that is split up and hiding with a French peasant who is protecting them from Nazi sympathizers. The quality of the acting and the cinematic storytelling were top-notch. I noticed aspects of the experience I had never thought of from previous exposure to other WWII movies and books. In one scene, the peasant Monsieur Maury stops to check on three of the women he is protecting -- two sisters and their mother -- at the isolated farmhouse and he brings them a bouquet of lilacs. Their expressions of delight and gratitude spurred me to think of the profound nature and impact this seemingly tiny gesture offers.

***

To anybody else it's just a bouquet.
But to us - we who are stuck in the shadows of a hostile world,
denied the luxury of 'normalcies' and faced instead with
yellow stars, boxcars, family losses and death camps -
these flowers remind us of the beauty that can still grow
in a world as crazy as ours,
where men engineer systems of annihilation
and lose sight of humanity.

These flowers show us the kindness
that can survive despite the bleak times,
of the humanity and goodness in some
that rise to outdo the evil of the day.

These remind us that we can choose who we become,
even in the worst-case scenario
we can mimic or defy our captors
in the adopted attitudes and values we display.

These blooms may be the only sweet-smelling fragrance
we encounter while hiding out on this farm,
here with the smells of sweat and sh*t and animals.

They may be our only visible sign of hope
and they sustain our will to live
when we think of the beauty this world can offer,
the goodness of those around us,
and we take a sensual escape from our imprisonment.

But to anybody else, it's just a bouquet.

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