Mozzafiato Trattiene il fiato, ma non la notizia.
Fury. Gut-wrenching fury. And then the tears. The sense of hopelessness and helplessness. And then another flash of anger. And indignation. And then another wave of desolation. And so it continues. A day blighted by evil. A city torn apart. How many more cities will there be? How many more horrors will our children see?
In writing this I feel like I’m simply churning out empty nouns, adjectives, well-worn collocations but sometimes, they are all we have to fall back on. Maybe they have become well worn for a reason.
How many more times will we have to pay for the clash of ideologies? This is not a war about religion. This is not about Christians against Muslims. This is about people trying to impose their ideas on other people, prepared to do whatever it takes to win.
And this IS about winning. This is a war. But it’s a war I fear we won’t win. And by ‘we’, I mean us, the people, not ‘us’ the Christians. I mean the mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters. I mean the ordinary people in ordinary homes. The ordinary people whose hearts break.
So today, I cry for Manchester. I cry for me. I cry for you. I cry for humanity.
