You may say it madness, insanity, or whatever word you like to use to define this recent phenomenon of bombings around the world. Or you may simply turn off your television or radio set, log off internet, and immerse in mind numbing music blaring from your boosted speakers on the wall instead, but you may not deny the underneath fear creeping spine and chilling sensation in blood witnessing the tremor on earth like a forewarning earthquake, as if a monstrous truck is rushing toward your way and you have no where to go in this abandoned road of discarded humanity.
Seeing the picture of a grief stricken petrified daughter, screaming in tearful agonies squatting just beside her bullet ripped lifeless father in Iraq, or the panicked commuters in London fleeing from recent spade of bombings, and even the collapsed buildings and twisted, burned metals of luxurious cars in Egypt's most secured resort place, invoke terror in its most elemental form.
And if you are a colored person like me, you may think twice taking any public transportation, you must have thick skin to avoid glaring suspicions from your fellow travelers, or their instant moving away from your closeness to a more distant secured place as if you are an untouchable, maligned with deadly disease, only cured in isolation or incarceration in above the law Gitmos.
Your heart-felt condemnation is suspected. Your good gestures toward victims are openly mocked.
You must not run. You must not wear out of "normal" clothing even if you are the Samba loving Brazilian, or you may simply get multiple shots in your head from over zealous "security" force.
You are marked.