Wednesday, November 20, 2013

when humanitarian work breaks you

There comes a point when reality and fiction come together. When after long talks you finally come face to face with the face behind the numbers, and it’s the one of a 15 year old girl  covered in bright make up. Wearing little more than clothes and a kind smile. No pride or self worth to  shelter under. And then your soul cracks. A quiet dry break slithers from the bone through the ice, from the core to the surface, where belief in justice and order used to beat.  Certainty pulled  from underneath your feet. Solid ground turned into glass. You don’t fall in, you are still privileged, but you now get to see the abyss underneath. Your breath stops and fear grips your lungs. Nothing is where it was, where it used to be, how it was meant to be, how they explained it you and how you explained it back.

You smile back. Forever broken.