Onward, in the Dark

Whatever real or imagined peace we had at Christmas seems gone as quickly as it came, as old as the memory of the disaster before last. Watching pictures of bodies pulled from wreckage in Sri Lanka interspersed with shiny new car commercials makes me want to retch, and not because I'm squeamish. This has become a season of grief, as well as of last-minute end-of-the-year clearance sales.

Perhaps the earth, its axis of rotation bent under the weight of so much pain and foolishness, will wobble off into space, never to be seen again. But I doubt we'll get off that easily.

Oh cheer! Not much to cheer about in Iraq, but this morning's piece in the Washington Post adds yet another depressing layer to the failure of our presence there. Iraqi women now say they are afraid to leaves their homes without wearing headscarves to make themselves invisible.

"The scarf has nothing to do with faith," [a young woman says]. "I fear there will be a time when we cannot walk in the street without head-to-toe abaya [the full black traditional dress] and a face cover. This will be the end of Iraq as a civilized country."

Liberation, anyone?