How can we make sense of tragedy? We can't. We can weep, we can get angry, we can turn to prayer or to poetry or to music. We can hug, we can hope, we can scream, we can get stone blind drunk. And that's just those of us who are not personally undergoing the torments of uncertainty and loss. Our hearts go out to all those personally touched by the mining disaster that took place one week ago today, and that has been unfolding over the agonising days since then. We are a nation in mourning.
For myself it's poetry that speaks to me.
Jeffrey Paparoa Holman "In the house of my body I carry that river"
TS Eliot "Who then devised the torment? Love."
Philip Larkin "The Explosion"
Another book I will (probably) never write
3 days ago