Friday, September 02, 2005

As I lay dying

As the days have passed since Katrina bore down her maleficent force on the South, there has been some time to reflect on the loss. Losses in this battle cannot be counted with simple price tags, or even body counts. America has lost so much more in this disaster than it ever has before, not from the actions of the many, but of the few. The violence, the looting, the vicious hatred of mankind all go beyond the struggle for survival in a land without hope - they taint the American spirit, the kindness of strangers, the love for fellow men. Efforts by the many will soon overshadow the sins of these few, but the stain has been set, forever a mark on the American landscape. For now, a grand old town of the South remains in anarchy.

We've lost the city of ghosts, voodoo, and vampires, a historic town unlike any other in the vast United States. A beacon of the South, a town of mystery and delight. We've lost the vampire Lestat, Zora Neale Hurston's voodoo education, and a confederacy of dunces. We've lost a rich culture, a grand heritage, a city made for people of all kinds, a city where everyone could be free to be themselves.

We've lost some American pride, spirit, and hope. Someday we will have it back again, but not yet. For now all we can do is watch it churn and sputter in the swirling water that engulfs a Southern city.


wandering-woman said...

This is a beautifully written post.

I couldn't seem to say what I wanted to, so I borrowed your words today, with a link.
You just said what I couldn't find words for, so beautifully...

Rex L. Camino said...

Well said, Mel.

I've also been thinking about the house at Pirate's Alley where Faulkner wrote his first novel.

hobbes said...

beautiful words for an unspeakable tragedy

deviousdiva said...

I am so sorry.
No words suffice
A tragedy unfolding.

I am so sorry

Shot Baker said...

Don’t forget “The Former Murder Capitol Of the World”

John Valentine said...

The NOLA refugee on my couch says, "New Orleans was a great place to live if you didn't want to accomplish anything. People there accepted you even if you were a bum." It is a city of ghost, an elephant graveyard. Everyone who lived there knew what would happen. Just like the folks in LA always say it's not a matter of 'if' but a matter of 'when'.

There will be a second line but first there must be mourning.