After Disaster (for the brave people of Maui and the relief bringers)
I want to give comfort. I want to speak to the sorrow, say something meaningful about suffering but words are like ash beneath my tongue, beauty blackened and ugly and there are no words for why and what now and how come. There are no words to comfort.
I’m sorry means I’m glad I wasn’t there to contend with your nightmare. I’m sorry it was you. I’m so sorry that it happened, while I sip my morning coffee in the luxury of my safety. I’m sorry, but I can send money and prayers and tears and try hard not to feel how sorry I am for the turning, out of nowhere; so much beauty into blackness
LBM 8/15/2023 (just learned of this: “Send money to chef Jose Andres’ World Central Kitchen. They have been feeding people there for a week already. Real good people doing real practical things very efficiently.”)
