Monday will mark five years since the day the earth shook in Haiti and everything changed in our lives. On January 14th, the first day we got back online, I wrote a post entitled "We are alive." (You can read it here.) Over the next several months I told and retold the story on this blog. (If you look in my archives beginning January 2010, you can read those posts.) I will be telling and retelling it the rest of my life, in different ways, I am sure.
Everyone is putting out the anniversary articles right now. I can't bring myself to read most of them. One has a title like "Five Years After the Earthquake, Haiti is Still on Shaky Ground." Really? I can't appreciate clever turns of phrase when thinking about such a heavy, heavy event, and when remembering those who died in that moment. Forty-seven thousand? Eighty-five thousand? Two hundred and thirty thousand? Three hundred thousand? All of those figures have been bandied about (see more on that here). We'll never know how many.
Here's a poem I wrote back then and posted for the first time in April 2010:
Here are some words I’d rather you not use metaphorically:
Here are some words I used before but shouldn’t have:
Here are some words I used to know:
Here’s a word I thought I knew but really didn’t:
by Ruth, from thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
There are times to discuss and evaluate. But right now it's a time to grieve. A time to remember that day and the days afterward, when we lived on adrenaline and survivor's guilt and sheer giddy joy to be alive. A time to mourn those we lost. A time to marvel that life has gone on for five years, and at the very same moment, to feel that maybe it was yesterday, so fresh are the memories of 4:53 that afternoon.
Tabitha has today's roundup here.
3 hours ago