Lately I dream of natural disasters, of drowning, and while it would be nice to say that this is because I think too much about the people of Haiti, that's not really why. Tangible tragedy only haunts me when I'm awake--these are things that I can help with in tiny tiny ways, and sometimes all movement counts.
It's the rest of it that pulls in the tides. Everyone surrounded by palm trees and white sand, most of them miserable or dying or both, and nothing I can do about any of it.
I just wonder, is all. About the other people looking tired in the airport, sitting quietly with their expressions facing inward and shoulders heavy. About all of the things that are broken and drowning and lost, and when it becomes possible again to muster the effort to push everything up one more time. Just before coming home I always feel like a very small rabbit staring down something too large and bright to even have a form.
Back home and off the plane, the first breath outside feels like the first breath after holding the last one walking past a graveyard. Safe again, and a little dizzy from the close call.
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