Today I will wear silence
I will not watch the re-runs. I will not stare into the grief. I will not give media a reason to shove cameras and microphones into the faces of the devastated. I will not endorse the theft of precious moments or the intensifying of their tortuous journey of grief.
I will not watch the calls for retribution, revenge, recall. I will not advocate for action that will make life harder for people whose life is already hard beyond my imagining.
In the silence I will take up my pen and write. I will write to Tanya Plibersek and tell her that I thought her revelatory speech was the bravest thing I had ever heard spoken in the parliament of this country. I will write to Julian McMahon. I do not know what I will say to this man who gave his all at a cost to self that most of us would never countenance. Perhaps in the silence the words will come.
I will work today with the quiet gratitude of one who is reminded of the preciousness of each moment that we have. I will work humbly with the focus and attention of one who has been reminded of the flaws of each of us. In the quiet of today, I will consider the humanness we share, the inherent problems of egocentric weak leadership and the capacity of generous strong leadership and the option we have to choose either in every day we live.
Today my pen will be my companion. Perhaps in this time of self and national reflection, when we have been made so aware of the power of story, it is a good companion to have.
Today I will wear silence like a cloak, bunkering down into it, giving grief and loss its due.