I think of you, dear Rwanda.

Twenty years ago today and still a child, I flew over your hills, innocent and ignorant of the horrors stirring in your belly. I think of this day when darkness fell on earth and sat on you. And I still shiver with fright, looking at this being from the abysses that a man can be.

Kwibuka 20…

Some say you cry too much.

Too loud. 

Too strong. 

Too high.

Who are they to tell you how to weep? How does one weep a million souls? What is the standard? On which scale shall they weigh your tears?

Weep Rwanda, weep.

Iririre.

Weep for only the dead don’t have tears. Weep for you are alive. Weep, so we can never again pretend not to know how low man can fall. Weep so we may stay awake and alert. Weep so we may know the monsters each of us can become. For these beasts were first men, like any of us. 

Men who one day let the night slowly set on their souls… 

Weep and let us never again forget to nourish the beautiful, the good, the great in us. 

Weep so we may chase the darkness to the ends of the world, and so she may never reign anywhere else on this earth.

Weep, weep, weep. Our frail arms surround you.

Weep so there may be no more tears tomorrow. 

For tomorrow is bright. 

Tomorrow is light…