I flew home from Kurdistan yesterday and am empty. Kapoosh. I look at my photos and start to cry like a hungry child. I am powerless. I range from sadness to rage to blank stares at the ceiling. I feel so much rage and anger at the systemic denial of justice happening in the world today, that I can’t stand the sight of my bible. The answers in it seem too prescriptive and simple in the face of such complex and prolific terror. God, help.
I want to write down the stories of the Yazidi, Arabs, tribal people, and the wonderful Kurds I shared tea with. It’s just that everything I write feels like a flimsy trivialization of the horror they have been through. How can I do this? How can I paint an accurate picture of the scale of suffering, injustice, and hunger these people experience? Even harder still, how can i describe the warmth I felt being with them, their sense of humor and the tenacity of their spirit?
I’ll try again tomorrow.
In the meantime, if you pray; please stay on your knees. If you give; please keep sharing. If you love people of all shapes, races, religions, orientations, social groups, and colors; keep on keeping on. Because this hateful world desperately needs you.