Isagel
01-12-2005, 07:35 AM
In sweden there have been alot of memorials since the tsunami disaster. We have been very much spared , in wars and accidents until now. The beaches where a popular tourist resorts for scandinavians and we might have lost thousands, many of them children. We are a small country, and this might be the worst disaster we have ever been involved in. Still we are doing much better then the inhabitants of the countries involved. We are the lucky ones, the privileged.
The one glimps of light is that the politicans here have started to use words like solidarity again - I haven´t heard that since I was a kid. And people get together and give alot of money and help. So far I think that about 400 million kronor - that is more than 40 million dollars has been collected, and sent. And more is coming. More is needed.
We have had gatherings at work, and this poem was read. I translated it and wanted to share it. It´s not about the disaster, but it fits well.
The pictures by Ylva Eggehorn from"Hjärtats knytnävsslag".
Pass me the pictures, the still undamaged ones
The child that learns to walk
Amongst the ruins
The grass that blossoms
With scentless flowers
The tree that reaches out a branch filled with leaves
windplaying guides
to the sea.
Pass me the pictures
The ones that feed me
That do not linger and stick
but sing to me with low voices
about al those things I already now.
The one glimps of light is that the politicans here have started to use words like solidarity again - I haven´t heard that since I was a kid. And people get together and give alot of money and help. So far I think that about 400 million kronor - that is more than 40 million dollars has been collected, and sent. And more is coming. More is needed.
We have had gatherings at work, and this poem was read. I translated it and wanted to share it. It´s not about the disaster, but it fits well.
The pictures by Ylva Eggehorn from"Hjärtats knytnävsslag".
Pass me the pictures, the still undamaged ones
The child that learns to walk
Amongst the ruins
The grass that blossoms
With scentless flowers
The tree that reaches out a branch filled with leaves
windplaying guides
to the sea.
Pass me the pictures
The ones that feed me
That do not linger and stick
but sing to me with low voices
about al those things I already now.