Tuesday, January 13, 2009
The Pressure To The Wounded
You know I just wouldn't be human if I didn't try and hold your hand as it disintegrated from the light of a thousand suns somewhere above Hiroshima. Or kiss the tears from your cheeks in Iraq, like the sweat from your brow in Zimbabwe. It isn't in me not to try and lift the rubble crushing you in Gaza or hide you in Rwanda. Like a last hug in a building in New York or the water we shared in Afghanistan. More than the blood we mixed in Flanders or the sandy beach we trod in Normandy. Longer than the fires burned in Dresden or Soweto. I won't let go of your hand.
Written by Me at 8:16 AM
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Having to choose just one post, I'd choose this one. I love the whole project, though.
your blog makes me feel extremely exposed. in a really good way.
i love this
That, was great. Am lost for words.
Good God, you are beautiful.
this made me gasp.
i'd try to hold on to your hand...
I don't know why.
i go back and read this every once in a while, it gets me every time. write a book, i would love that.
13 January 2009 - I buried my 4 year old boy on this sad day...
I love all your posts, but this one takes the cake. It just covers EVERYTHING, like all humankind and its history of suffering and hope in a few sentences.
Each time I read this I am still in awe.
When the pressures of parents and expectations pull me away from the simple beauty of the world, I come and read your blog;
and it reminds me that I want to be great someday. But not in the picket fence millionaire way, but in the "I changed someones life today" way. You remind of this.
Thanks for that.
Favorite.. by far. There is no comparision. <3
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