For those with stories, both heard and unheard.
For those who could cry no more tears.
For those who would never see their loved ones again.
For those who experienced demoralising, dehumanising events.
For those who lived through hearing screams.
For those whose lives have been turned upside down.
For those who could literally feel their hearts jump out through their mouths.
For those who were too traumatised to hold on to reality.
For those who are still trying to get used to it.
For those who could not do anything else but cry.
I once survived mass killings in a civil war outbreak. Though it was nothing as titanic as recent events, in those timeless yet brief hours, I learnt what it felt like to be frozen in a state of shock; petrified. To not know whether to hide or run, to be surrounded by blood curdling screams.
I know the sound of death.
The sound it makes when it comes hungered, in a rage, unexpected.
But what haunts me more than the experience is the thought that this is not a one off thing for some people. That some people live the trauma, as the rest of the world watches in silence whilst they die.
The world has been shattered into delicate pieces long before last week, last month, earlier this year. The world has been so broken that the stories are becoming as ancient as time itself.
Please, Pray for a better world.