Elegy for nine

Nine people are dead, one of them the ex-cop who pulled the trigger before being shot himself by a former brother in the service.

This not about one nation’s embarrassment and another nation’s outrage, although those are understandable and very real reactions, most of us being accustomed to living in just one country with people of the same race and nationality.

So even in this age of instant global communication, the us-and-them reflex lingers.

But this is not about race or nationality. It’s not about us and them. It’s not about incidental labels that we put over our essential humanity.

This is about people killing other people — and those whose duty is to prevent it failing to do so.

We can win all the boxing matches and all the beauty pageants all over the world. But that would only prove how good we are at boxing and beauty pageants, and naturally, make us feel good about us.

Meanwhile, those people whose last tour stop was the Quirino Grandstand are going to stay dead.

That’s a fact that their families and friends are going to have to live with for the rest of their lives, while the rest of us, as embarrassed as we may be, can afford to wait for the next big story to rant and rage about.

If we must mourn, then let us mourn — for the dead and not the bruise on our national pride.

I don’t pray. So all I can say is this: May they all rest in peace.

And may we all learn to live in peace.

Until then, I hope policemen, wherever in the world they may be on the beat, can reassure us that we can rely on them for protection, if necessary, from each other.

© ATM