bombs

my friend andrea's message was the first in my inbox this morning, before i'd even turned on the radio, or opened my browser to the news of the world.

she told us she was safe, in london, and not to worry about her if we'd heard the news of the bombings.

not too long ago, a classmate of mine was to have gone to a show in qatar at a venue that was bombed (but she was not there after all).

4 years ago, my friend sara was on a train, taking a crowd of kids to new york to bring their play on peacebuilding to the sec. general of the united nations when 2 planes struck the towers that shattered the american world.

some cbc reporter has just wondered aloud whether canada, the only one on the list del terroristas not yet burned, will be next.

bombs are falling. fear builds.
life continues: unlike our flags flying low on their poles, the stock exchanges, our dollar, all are up today. and i catch myself wondering whether i'll now get a deal on my british airways ticket traveling through london. but if i'd been 'touched' by this note in the chorus of tragedy, i would never have written these words.

violence has been visited on our brothers and sisters, our grandfathers and grandmothers, since first hands were folded into fists, or fingers wrapped around weapons of minor destruction. all of it unnecessary. but then, it seems we can hear pain far more clearly than the sound of words anyways. touch was the first language. it will be the last.