Here's who's helping.
The riot explodes at my feet. I scream and tear for any exit, through arms and faces and sweat. With the next pound of my heartbeat, I suddenly understand the fight for life or death. Ah yes. I have seen this before.
I didn't know what I was looking for, just that I'd know when I saw it. I wanted something irreplaceable and perfect -- something to remind me of my work with refugees, and of the woman that this dirty, relentless and fulfilling work had made me.