Some of us came from the factories, sons and daughters of coal miners and steel workers. Others were the children of doctors and professors. We were brothers, sisters, neices and nephews, friends, colleagues and lovers. You saw us only through what we did; the ways in which we toiled. We created glories, memories, happiness, and you took it all to the bank. Cash in hand you led us to nightclubs, bought us drinks and fast cars. We hatched plans and got drunk, occasionally made the news. And now we are gone and the obituaries written. You smile, averting your eyes.
For many years we have lived a cave. We have been chained, our heads fixed, our gaze transfixed. We have watched shadows, believing them to be real. We have heard echoes, believing them to be true. We have been entrapped by reflections of reality, thinking we understood the nature of the world and that society depended on those shadows.
What would happen if we were released? If we saw the truth that cast the shadows? If we looked into the light of the fire? Would we stand up and turn towards the sun? Would we wish a return to darkness?