Mrs. Conti

Perhaps, there is a part of the brain that switches off when faced with horror and things so appalling, we stare in disbelief. I believe there exists another part, equally weighted and full of compassion, and within that most human of places a cause for action, a reason to persevere, a calling to the line. I've seen that line and along its corridors, the narrow passings filled with those who wait and wonder when their time will come. I've heard the chimes of others, proclaiming overwhelming excitement for situations so grim, thereby implying natural talent for the cause and missing what it means to be a witness. I sit and boil over such comments, because human suffering is not exciting, because a human being should never be reduced to a wristband, because this place is full of such great hope and crushing personal tragedy we cannot afford to lose our humanity within it. These emotions are said to fade, I'm told, but if they do what will take their place? From where will come a friendly hand to rest upon a nervous shoulder or gently sweap a fallen hair behind, or from where will come a simple human question from one being to another and sometimes, against all odds, court a smile back in reply?