Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Richard Deris and Wasnel Samuel Guirand are living temporarily in a tent outside The Salvation Army Haiti Divisional Headquarters in Port-au-Prince.
It’s a breezy day in Port-au-Prince, and its boring in their tent. For centuries a breeze anywhere in the world has attracted children and their kites, and these kids are no exception. But, Richard and Wasnel had no kite and no money with which to buy one.
So, they made their own.
Using a discarded garbage bag, strips of cloth salvaged from the near-by trash canal and stripping the middle spine of a coconut palm leaf, they fashioned small kites that catch the wind and provide hours of play and relief from the boredom of their present circumstances.
What a simple, beautiful way to remind oneself that in the wake of a terrible natural disaster, joy and a little fun can still be found in the sun that continues to shine and the breeze that continues to blow.
Written by Laura
The fact that individuals are still being pulled from underneath destruction makes my soul smile.
Earthquake survivor spent two weeks trapped under rubble:
Rescuers find 16 year old girl alive 15 days after the earthquake:
By: Jason Mars
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
I step right before left in search of something
Hope dangling nothing in front me
But I can't turn back because there is nothing in that direction save
for a black hole
I am starting to forget which way leads me forward....
This is simply a scene unseen by me
I have never been to Haiti
In fact I have never been a lot of places
But when God places words in your heart
You have to open your mouth like a book and allow the world to read
Then maybe we as humans will focus on a world outside of our everyday
America sits idle
Turning the channel from live coverage of destruction to American idol
Or the latest reality series
The truth of the matter is that reality stares us in the face
And we often look away
As we spend less time thinking of others and their pain
And more time spending for pleasure
What we discard others see as treasure
My wealth is in words and I give them freely to causes
That call out to me
Reminding me that less is more
I have found that the richest people are the most morally poor
The world is malnourished as far as compassion is concerned
Apathy keeps pulling at my coat tail but I am held up by concern
Starving children make me sick to my stomach
Some things are just to difficult to digest
You should have thought of misfortune before the tip of my pencil
introduced you to it
But I digress:
I found something amidst the rubble of ruin
Bodies broken in the blackness of night
Laying motionless forgotten in a corner of this forgotten world
Media makes its way to capture catastrophe
So that people can tune into a world that they would normally tune out
This is my life
Days of night
Until something happens
And it becomes lights camera action
A show to skip over
For something less intense
Something more entertaining
To take your mind off of the mess that you can't bear to watch.
Friday, January 15, 2010
God places a hand of concern on the shoulder of apathy
His voice, Calamity, shakes the rest of the world to gain our attention
Reminding us that the loss of life ripples wider than the most thundering of quakes.
My heart assures me that my feelings are normal. It is far beyond the rational mind to understand such destruction. To know that it is happening right now and not be able to lend a hand. But we are only helpless if we allow ourselves to be. So we surrender our thoughts to you, for too long we ignored you
The more I think, the more I realize that I do not know much about human nature, but I hate that it takes this much loss for us to gain a sense of responsibility.
We should have been there long before you crumbled, may we find our character buried somewhere beneath the grace of your rubble.
find more than bone but souls
Our souls rubbed as raw as your hands as you shift through the broken
May the spirits of the fallen be reincarnated within each of us so that their story can live.
I remember my grandmother saying it’s pointless to bring flowers to the dead, so instead we send regret scented supplies to supplement what you have lost.
You and your Land of high mountains, fist curled, back against the wall
how they topper the lies and threatened to de-God you
your truth now resonates in our hands like destiny manifested
and we shall hand them over so dreams can once again touch reality
This is the re-birth breaking though bones and barriers--everything that came before has led us here: to the undeniable interconnectedness of a people no lines of separation/ no space between. Every breath in every child in every crevice in every corner matters. The weight of our worth will be measured now, the universe watching and recording, hope swollen in her lens.
Showing struggle in an unfamiliar light…as humans we tight rope between Heaven and Hell, the wind pushing us in either direction…divided we fall, and our screams fall on deaf ear, our hands reaching for compassion grasping darkness tightly for fear that we will fall out of touch with light…Haiti, our fallen comrade, let our words serve as wings to bring you from the depths of destruction…let our voices guide you in your blind attempt to better your circumstances…in each letter find steps to a ladder of love and compassion until you reach the pedestal on which you belong.
Jason A. Mars
Fisseha W. Moges
Adam (In-Q) Schmalholz
Venessa Marie Marco