I do not know how to convey the feelings I have from watching all the coverage on the television. I see family members of those who died on Tuesday and how they are searching: for help; for hope; to cope. This is just a few of my emotions, that slowly wash over me each time I see solo personages on the tele.

I want…

I see you on the electric screens.

I want to hold your hand.

I want to be there lifting you out of that dark hole.

I want to wipe the dust from your brow.

I want to hold you in my arms.

I want to help your eyes and guide them to the light.

I want to be the one to tell you it’s alright.

I want to raise you to your feet and prop you on my shoulders.

I want to care for your wounds and wash them cleanly through.

I want to move the buildings fallen; move the concrete boulders.

I want to… I want to… I want to…

I want to do these things.

I want to do them for you.

I want to do these things, but they are not to be.

I want to help you, but I cannot set you free…

Only he can.