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Remember Savita Halappanavar

Stories and News No. 1097

Remember Savita Halappanavar.
Remember, out there, in Ireland, when you’ll be able and have to write the end for the inhuman, unjust and paradoxical parable that pretends to put the nascent future before the one who made it with absolute trust and uncontrollable love. Above all, robbing her of the maternal - but you may also read as sacrosanct, right to choose...

Remember, also the meaning of the words that issued the cruel sentence: We cannot make an abortion - that is, dear woman, you will die in pain, because that’s what our belief imposes on us.
This is the law, this is the principle. Tomorrow must be protected in any case, at the cost of torturing and even slaughtering the past. Even when that fateful, awaited day will never see light.
Remember all that, dear Ireland, and while you're listening, join us, interested spectator.
Nonetheless, don’t stop at this, so that it is not only the present at stake.
Because this rooted violence, incredibly tolerated as a piece of a self-defining civil society, gets its nourishment from an absolute lack of story’s complete vision.
Therefore, remember, but, at the same time, imagine.
Imagine a girl who unlike her executioners used to smile just thinking about how much happiness was waiting for her...

Remember, but in the same moment, imagine, with courage, do it.
Imagine that instant where everything was still possible, where promises and bonds were sanctioned, but her eyes saw only a light on the horizon, the one which crazy people, a cursed day, would claim rights on...

Remember that young mother, and at the same time imagine.
Imagine the vibrations of an ancient wisdom like the world itself, as they exploded with a passion that tastes of marvelous value, conquered with patience and tenacity...

Remember Savita Halappanavar, dear citizens of Ireland, a moment before closing once and for all the umpteenth, medieval chapter that survived human progress.
Nevertheless, where a brutal resistance will persist in crushing your heart and conscience, like a blind python from the coils of incongruent inflated morality, try also to imagine.
Imagine Savita.
Imagine her life, just like that.
Indeed, all the lives that she could have given birth and nourished, if only those doctors had found the strength to free themselves from an infernal yoke confused with unshakable purity.
Imagine, and now, if you really want.

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