Children cry uncontrollably, stomachs empty from days of no food and no comfort. Women scream for help and men, broken with loss of self-esteem, look down in shame. Years of neglect and insufferable isolation dominate years of hopeless abandon and exploitation.
And, when is seems like hell can’t be worse, an impossible power rearranges everything. Shocking, pounding pulses destroy the bare, poverty repaired, dirty chairs and bed frame. Nothing becomes less and the penitentiary that was a Haiti crumbles into broken heaps of clay and tin.
Hours into exhausting survival, tremors return again and again stoking fear as already confining rubble cinches it’s dark, oppressive grip, pressing on broken bones and gaping wounds. Sounds with no direction or purpose come and go and the airborne coffin dust steals the air from each breath.
After days of purgatory punishment, the sound of a fading heart beat is drowned out by people asking for survivor noises and hope comes in on a ray of light.