How Can We Move People, That We Could Move You?

When we arrived, black smoke was still pouring from the shelter. There was chaos. The operation to recover bodies had barely begun. Most were women, but many were young children,. Some curled on their sides as though they died instantly. And when i'm being seen, thers i, you don't look like a refugee. A li, what if i dropped a bit of tears? Would i look more like refugee or put a head scarf? What is it about distant suffering that numbs us to the pain of others?