141. The Great Silence: To Hear A Cry From the Earth

Among desperate cries of fear and lamentations one request echoed above the rest, the need for silence.  Rescue workers asked for silence, complete silence so as to hear the cry pierce through the earth of a living person buried beneath.

That’s the long and the short of this tragedy, a tragedy that yet again brings to the surface how frail our existence is, how frail against the mighty powers of nature humans are, though we may think we are important, powerful, wealthy, influential we are in effect like frail leaves on a dying tree.  

During the earthquake in L'Aquila, we have seen how in less than 30 seconds, it is possible to lose every single thing, all one possesses and even one’s existence on this earth- all- in less than half a minute.   

And for those that remain the road to Calvary begins, a fit time this, being Holy Week.  Now begins the days of uncertainty, where to sleep for this night, the next and the one after that: what to wear, what to eat... what, where, how... who will provide?  

For people with only blankets on their back and others dragged out naked from the cracks of the world the endless line of waiting begins- the endless line for food, for coffee, for the toilet, for water, for clothes... for 28 thousand people evicted, homeless, this is what Easter awaits for them.  

Every time a body is brought out from the ground wrapped in a white sheet, there are a few stragglers who follow in dread, fearfully asking “Is it my child... mother... father...” and very often it is.  But there are also those who are unearthed still alive and people hold hands together and raise them high shouting with joy.

But man does not live by bread alone- the people who were born in this area, grew up among the unique treasures of L'Aquila’s architecture which will be no more.  This will no longer be the L'Aquila of the 99 churches, the 99 squares and the 99 fountains.  People will look for the familiar scenes which lie, to their dismay, crumbled beneath their feet. They will search for the landmarks they had grown to love and find them torn apart dreading that one day these same people will have to wake to find some modern, impersonal monstrosity in their place.
  

The State, forgetting bureaucracy sends its sirens and emergency aids screeching through the night, thousands click their €2 donation number on their cell phones; soldiers, alpines, Red Cross volunteers, blood donors, dogs dash to offer their services.

Bare hands scrape through the rubble, removing stone upon stone, one by one, careful not to move the ground and crush whoever is beneath even further.  And almost all of the entire world gather round to offer Italy whatever may still be of need. 

 

But now, three days later, although the ground still trembles, the earth does not give out any more cries- and tomorrow, Good Friday, L'Aquila will bury its 281 dead.