A devastating disaster struck Korea on April 15th. South Korean ferry Sewol sank causing 28 deaths, 179 rescues, and most importantly 268 still missing out of 475 total who were on board. Shockingly, 325 of the passengers were high schoolers who were on a class field trip to Jeju island. On-board safety announcements informed passengers to stay in their places and put on life jackets to await rescues. Soon the ship began tilting over and there was no time for the passengers to escape. This horrible accident could have been prevented if the captain handled the situation with responsibility. However, he was THE FIRST one to be rescued and he abandoned the rest of the passengers who were trembling in fear. IF he made just one brief announcement telling the passengers to leave their room and come out to the deck immediately, this horrendous incident wouldn’t have happened. No word can express my condolences. Over 50 hours have passed and the cold water temperature even reduces the possibility of the remaining ones’ survival. I will pray for the lost ones and their families, the unknown survivors still trapped inside the ferry, and the brave divers/rescuers who are out in the cold and dangerous sea (considering the stormy weather these past 3 days). Keep strong South Korea and never lose hope.
유가족분들, 현재 어둡고 차가운 바다에서 공포에 떨고있을 실종자분들, 궂은 날씨에도 불구하고 자신의 목숨을 걸며 구조 작업에 열중하시는 구조대원분들, 그리고 지금 초조하게 이 상황을 지켜보는 모든 분들 희망 잃지 마시고 좋은 결과가 있기를 기도해봅시다. 최대한 많은 인원이 돌아왔으면 좋겠습니다. 조금만 더 버텨주세요. 제발.
My heels kiss the jaded cement that has been plastered with the taste of alcohol and cigarette butts. I imagine sinking my arches in sandy beaches that have seen no shame. Crowded corners collect idle onlookers unconcerned with finding meaning in life. Paper bags with yeasty beer, Shiny green topped boxes with tobacco sticks, the nickname “Red” being shouted at every caramel colored woman that passes. These are my streets. But instead I imagine monks gathering to contemplate the solutions to world’s problems. I imagine the sweetness of the smell of burning incense. I imagine chants in an overwhelming desire to meditate on the good in this world. These are my streets. I walk them mentally to sedate the chaos; as I transform my reality.
Cemented eyes peel open as the paste of reality separates soul-ish windows. Collections of pain drain down esophageal passage ways reminding the gut to never forget its’ humanity; no matter how sweet the last meal. Swelling of skin as blood rushes to reveal dark purses below eyelids that hold secrets that were never to be revealed.
I think I may create a few poems to celebrate.
If you’ve been online within the past 24 hours, you’ve probably noticed the extremely important report out of the UN yesterday.