I feel inarticulate about this photo, felt sick to my stomach as I approached the church where the four little girls were killed by a bomb in their place of worship. I imagined the chaos, terror, anger, sorrow that permeated this place that terrible September 15 morning. I thought about Rwanda and Kristal night and all the times people murder each other for hate. The language of the monuments and museums had become more universal to me by the evening of our second pilgrimage day. Somewhere along the way I began to notice the phrase "human rights" used at least as frequently as "civil rights" and to see the movement in the south as one manifestation of a stand against hate that has to continue - not their fight, then, our fight now and forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment