I normally stretch to remember the humanbeingness of serial killers, rapists, and sexual predators. The easiest take is to call them Monsters.
In just a few weeks’ time, we’ve seen the Ariel Castro plea and sentencing; heard additional allegations of another Ohio man holding three women; and, just the other day, learned news that a 15-year old was restrained in a box for hours at a time on a pot farm, in Northern California.
I assume it’s like autism or ADHD. Or planter fasciitis among athletes. Always been around but just now really diagnosing it. So it looks like a new problem, when it’s not.
If, in 2013, people can hide humans, unbeknownst to neighbors and family, for a decade, without discovery, then how often was this occurring let’s say 100 years ago, without equivalent law enforcement, abduction awareness, telecommunications, social media, and unrelenting news coverage?
100% more? 200%?
Or, maybe, it’s precisely for the privacy and busyness of modern life and the availability of technology and resources to carry out such horror in relative anonymity that the incidence of human hoarding is increased.
I ask myself:
Would I want my loved one victimized but left for dead or, eventually returned, but only after an unspeakable duration of imprisonment and irreversible physical and psychological torture?
That they would die.
But, the rate, now or historically, really doesn’t matter. The thought of just one. One woman. One child. One friend. Locked. Chained. Boxed?
I believe in a God that has specific, personal concern for people created. But, the very immediate cosmic inattention to our very bad behavior is a persistent and ruthless siege upon that belief. Eternity promises to make it all whole.
There really isn’t any other angle on these stories. Just their pain.
Written and performed by theipoetlaureate. Music produced Dalama Jones.
Today’s blong here:The Box