Congo

Let me begin by quoting one line from an otherwise uplifting poem written by Thomas Campion around 1600:

"But fools do live and waste their little light,
and seek with pain their ever-during night."

Now let me point to a web site:

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/01/11/60minutes/main3701249.shtml

How much pain, I wonder, can men carry with them as they march on toward their own death? How much willful brutality can men carry inside themselves, ready to unleash over and over? How can men be such unmitigated monsters? How, even in their warped minds, can they separate the image of women from the state of dignity?

Congo, you are hemorrhaging. You have become a poison pool of bitter toxicity. Why do you do this? Who are these men? They have mothers who carried them, bore them, nursed them. They have sisters. How could it have happened so?

Congo, your women are bleeding. Your men are striking the blows. Anger, fear and pain are all around. What will you do now? How will you stop it?