From where I sit watching the news, from a chair in the comfort of The Shire, I don't like to feel that I am given to hysterical, pointless lamentations of how much suffering and woe goes on in the world that is beyond my control. I assume earthquakes will continue to happen and I assume lives will continue to be shattered. I assume that as the population grows and humans continue to build their ant hives across the surface of this world, the devastation from such events will grow worse in terms of the death toll.
I have no words for those people and I do not understand what they are experiencing as they stand in the tides of the dead.
I watched my Twitter feed fill up with photographs and exclamations of dismay. I watched fingers wag. I watched it give way to discussions about the logic behind daylight savings time.
I imagine a man, not very old, gifted and bright with a degree in nuclear engineering from an American school. I imagine that three weeks ago he had normal, first world problems, just as I do. I imagine that he is now going to work every day, setting aside the grief of not knowing if his friends and family are dead or just missing, through a ravaged, apocalyptic landscape still trembling with aftershocks. He will suffer from radiation sickness if he doesn't die in an explosion in the next few days, or at least, that's a prospect is facing. He is still going in to his job only because he has chosen to sacrifice himself to prevent a disaster.
He will live more in the next few days than I will in my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment