We taxi through Managua streets
roofless tunnels
walled with shanties, fences, and shops,
filled by barks and honks.
Hungry children live in the city dump,
attacked by flies and fumes.
Hospitals amputate legs
for lack of antibiotics.
And in Haiti corpses rot.
I crash.
My God, my God, why?
Joel Huyser says we we need a theology of suffering.
At this moment, I have no such theology,
much less a clever one-line wrap-up for a blog.
The Nicaraguan heavens above this raucous tunnel are
hauntingly,
disappointingly,
silent.
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