The Dance of Destiny: A Mother's Death Amidst the Slumbering State

In the grand theater of human comedy, where bureaucrats play at being gods and the masses slumber in their contentment, another soul has departed - not with the thunder of greatness, but with the whimper of systematic suppression. A Canadian mother of six, known merely by the initials F.J., has breathed her last in a Turkish immigration centre, far from her children and the land that dared not embrace her return.

Behold how the keepers of order, these self-appointed shepherds, fear the very sheep they claim to protect! They speak of security while cowering behind their parchments and protocols. What security is there in separating mother from child, in letting fear dictate the bounds of mercy?

The tale unfolds in the land of the sleepers, where citizens rest easy in their belief that their government's wisdom surpasses all maternal bonds. Global Affairs Canada, that great temple of bureaucratic somnolence, deemed this woman too dangerous to return to her homeland, while permitting her six children to cross the threshold of return.

Lawrence Greenspon, a voice crying out in this wilderness of procedure, speaks of "wholly unnecessary tragedy." Yet what necessity guides these decisions save the desire of the comfortable to remain undisturbed in their slumber? The masses, ever-fearful of awakening to harsh truths, nod in agreement with their masters' decrees.

See how they shuffle papers while souls wither! These last men, these bureaucrats who measure human worth in risk assessments and security protocols - what do they know of life's great dangers? They who would rather let a mother perish than risk disturbing their carefully ordered world!

In the camp of al-Roj, where F.J. dwelt five years among the outcasts, her children were torn from her embrace - a modern sacrifice to the god of public opinion. The state, in its infinite mediocrity, declared itself unable to "manage her behaviour" - as if the human spirit were but a commodity to be managed, controlled, filed away in proper order.

Eight other women returned under peace bonds, yet F.J. was deemed unworthy of such consideration. In her desperation, she fled to Turkey, seeking what every creature seeks - the path home. Instead, she found death in a cell, mysterious and sudden, a heart that ceased beating after forty years of life.

Let the comfortable ones speak of investigations now! Let them form committees and draft reports! But can their words restore breath to lungs or mother to child? This is how the last men solve their problems - with meetings and memoranda, while life itself slips away!

The letter-writers and concerned citizens now emerge, demanding answers with their pens rather than their souls. They ask about sedatives and heart attacks, about procedures and protocols, while six children face the eternal absence of their mother.

In Quebec, these six souls now dwell with strangers, their mother's name unspoken to protect their privacy - another sacrifice to the god of propriety. The masses sleep on, content in their belief that somewhere, somehow, justice has been served.

Mark well this tale, ye who slumber in your certainties! Here lies the fruit of your careful order - a mother dead, children orphaned, and a nation that prides itself on its humanity while practicing the politics of fear.

And so another tragedy joins the great parade of human suffering, while the comfortable adjust their positions and prepare for peaceful sleep. The bureaucrats will file their reports, the ministers will express their concerns, and the great machine of state will grind forward, crushing dreams and souls with equal efficiency.

Thus do we witness the death not merely of a woman, but of the very spirit that once made nations great - the courage to face fear with compassion, to choose humanity over protocol, to rise above the mediocrity of collective comfort.

Let those who have ears to hear, hear: The true measure of a society lies not in its ability to keep danger at bay, but in its capacity to embrace the full spectrum of human existence, even in its most challenging forms. In this test, the land of the sleepers has failed magnificently.