Last night I dreamed that for some strange reason, I was having to eat human flesh. A lot of it. Bite after bite. Each one necessary but each one a new impossible decision. It was a very big bowl. I can still taste it. When I woke up I thought it was about Easter Communion, for which I overslept, and it may have been.

But now as I recall the taste it seems a lot like chocolate bunnies, and waking to think "He is Risen" and finding this story instead. I don't think I will ever remember Easter the same way again.

I think the lack of outrage has to do with the fact that this story is almost unbearable to feel. To look at this head on is almost more than I can do, myself, and I decided long ago to feel whatever had to be felt. Most people do not have the tools or resources to feel this. I have them and I can hardly stand to even think about it. I go on with my Easter brunch for my sweet hard-working Hardi, knowing this is happening too.

What possible positive future is there for these children, and how many more? If this is the tip we just happened to hear about, how big is the iceberg?

God help us if we cannot even make songs for 250 kids who may be in the drink, when we can make so many and have so much attention for our Elian's.

~Susan