The Voiceless



"Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of the victims may be the most opressive.... The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated, but those who torment us for our own good, will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience."
CS Lewis

It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.
Krishnamurti




And then we created an alternative world, one where there was little movement, still, as the years advanced, warm blankets, slippers, a pipe if people still smoked, which they don't. He was tormented by so many losses he could not re-engage, try as he might. His painful bones ached through the night. He woke up thrashing, his breath sour. Projects came and went, fully formed, never executed. These were the autumn days.

If only he could force himself out a bit more; but the nights grew cold and he grew colder and he rushed inside his door like it was a safe-house, an animal burrow, the rest of the world a hostile, evil place. He could see the pine trees in the distance, a smudge on the horizon. He knew, somehow, that he had been past them before, but all was not lost, loud voices rising up, a cool breeze, a diseased psyche, a state of longing, little worlds to write about and an ashen face, the teeth knocked out. He didn't think he would ever surface.

Each day the same woman spoke to him. Sometimes he recognised her, sometimes he didn't. These were the fragile times that lasted forever. There was the group of young people gathering at the bar for a drink. There was the planned adventure, the boat ride on the harbour. You could write whole books on these tragedies, six dead in the harbour. Tis computer got infected with a virus and has been shut down for a week. We had to take everything off and reinstall it. Everything was a mess, everything was regret. It couldn't last. Soon the roses had to bloom, soon there would be another world, complex, fascinating, spiritually enriched. He blinked in frustration. As he had said so often: there was no way out.



THE BIGGER STORY:

http://www.nationalpost.com/news/story.html?id=501510

BANGKOK -- With up to 100,000 dead and one million homeless, aid is slowly making its way to victims of cyclone Nagris in Burma, but the country's military regime continued Thursday to stall many foreign efforts.

One United Nations aid flight arrived from Italy in Rangoon, and two others were expected -- all carrying food, water, tents and medical supplies for a population that has gone a week without shelter, fresh water and electricity.

But the supplies arrived without many experienced workers trained to assess the situation and distribute the aid. International disaster relief experts are still cooling their heels, mostly in Bangkok, waiting for visas to enter the country.


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