MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE

It is 3:33 A.M. March 17, 2013 and I am working, writing by the light of a coal oil lamp. There has been  no electricity since yesterday.

The night is silent, except for the sounds of insects and the occasional bark of a dog. This nocturnal Haitian peace  is now broken by the anguished cries of a woman, somewhere out there in the night.  The hopeless agony of someone, in a society that has few cures, or hopes, for those who really need help.

Perhaps a child has died.

Perhaps her husband.

There will be no consolation.

Only more sorrow, in a society  doomed to an accelerating hardship, that takes what little exists.  That has now taken something precious, from that nameless, faceless voice of Haiti, out there in the night.

I feel an empty hopelessness.

There is so much to do, and so little to do it with.

The cries have ended, and the sounds of a Haitian night prevail, once again.

It is 3:46, and an eternity has begun, or has it ended?

I throw this thought, out onto the Internet, like a message enclosed in a bottle,  tossed off a dock, and into the ocean’s endless, wandering currents.  Perhaps, someone out there will understand the Message and send help.

Collins

March 17,2013