Don't Make Me Cry

I mourn peace and freedom. I mourn checks and balances, and the democratic consensus. I mourn every innocent victim of war—every child, every dream crushed by every tyrant. How could I not? How can you not?

Being pro-people and pro-peace isn’t being anti-anyone, it’s refusing to let pain justify cruelty. I love my Jewish friends, but I also mourn the moral consensus we once called “Never Again.” Because safety matters—yours, mine, theirs, ours. Everyone’s safety matters… That’s why my heart can’t stop singing and praying for world peace. I’m not anti-anyone. I’m anti-dehumanization. My hope is that the Jewish story can end in healing, not repetition. 

I can’t help but hope… because I believe we can protect each other without inflicting new wounds. Empathy isn’t a zero-sum game; it’s what makes us human! It’s what helps us survive and thrive as one earthly, democratic tribe. In fact, empathy is the ultimate weapon against evil! That is exactly why those who cannot feel it try to divide and conquer by calling empathy weak or dangerous.

Simone Weil wrote: “Imaginary evil is romantic; real evil is gloomy, monotonous, barren.” So when I hear friends glorify revenge to justify genocide, I weep… as if trauma could explain violence because it gives despair a proud story; as if moral drama, fueled by hubris, could heal the multigenerational void of helplessness left by past and future trauma. When a pacifist says “no more heroes, no more villains, just humans,” it’s treated as a threat, as if “you’re with us or against us” were unquestionable truth. 

But Nietzsche warned that those who fight monsters must be careful not to become them, and Hannah Arendt reminded us that fear of being a victim can make us accept the role of the oppressor. Real humanism doesn’t erase trauma, it transcends it! Pacifism isn’t naïve; it’s a radical commitment to ending the cycle of identification with force. 

Winning means grounding ourselves in moral coherence. Life is sacred. It’s not about picking sides between nations (or parties)… it’s about choosing compassion over cruelty. Sigh. 

And so well now, of course, I wrote yet another song—another “Letter to My Friend,” about Never Again. 💌

—
@bananasutra – Lyrics: “Letter to My Friend”

Hey love, 
I’ve been thinkin’, the air’s gone strange.
We built a bridge, but fear made the range. 
When did caring turn into crime? 
Since when did heartbeats choose a side in time?

You think my tears forgot their tribe, 
But pain’s one language, that’s the vibe. 
If I cry for Gaza, do I leave you dry? 
Or can both our ghosts learn to sigh and fly?

I’m not your enemy, babe, I’m the echo that remains. 
Every love I add don’t steal your chains. 
Peace ain’t a prize that one can win; 
It’s a wound that heals when we let it begin. 
Oh, Bananasutra sings again…

Your roots run deep in haunted clay, 
I feel that tremor every day. 
But if walls keep empathy out of sight, 
Ain’t we just living in longer nights?

You guard your story like sacred wine, 
But I sip my sorrow... it tastes like thine. 
Can’t “never again” be a door, not a wall? 
Must one rise so another can fall?

I’m not your rival, love, I’m the ache that understands, 
Two trembling souls with open hands. 
My heart don’t subtract when it starts to expand; 
It multiplies truth in foreign lands.

Pain is pain; it don’t wear flags. 
It needs no borders, no tags. 
Fear’s a thief, babe, it steals our sight, 
Makes day look wrong and wrong look right.

Would you rather win, or rather heal? 
Would you rather numb, or rather feel? 
If trust could hum a new refrain, 
Would you hear my note through your pain?

I’m not against you, I’m just against cruel. 
Love ain’t a weapon; it’s the rebel’s rule. 
Let’s rewrite Never Again for all, 
’Cause peace built on pride’s just another wall.

So hey, my friend, come dance instead? 
We’ll sing for the living, not just the dead. 
Bananasutra’s heart don’t bend, 
It blooms, it breaks, it mends. 🪽


I Got Somebody Else

Changing Faces