Finding Momentum

Two AM in the wrong time zone. My thoughts are swim­ming with all the wrong things. Tele­vi­sion fires fiery images of the dead, dying under burnt ash, col­lapsed rub­ble and the ocean that comes in unin­vit­edly and sweeps things out. Like a thief in the night. Comes in with noth­ing but a whis­per of a sound and leaves with all that is pre­cious. Two AM in the wrong time zone and I can­not syn­the­size the infor­ma­tion and align it to what I should feel. I wres­tle with myself and won­der why I can’t feel the pain of loss. Why couldn’t it have been me that faced sky­scraper waves so high, so high that they came tum­bling down. What to do what to do what to do; for what, truly, can I do but extend a prayer?