As all of the news from Boston continues to come out, and we cry over the events, we hear the final numbers, we pray for those in critical condition, and sensationalise each of their stories, I will be praying for Iraq.
I know we're all sick to death of hearing about war in the Middle East. I know we have all heard how bad it is, how dangerous it is. I know you know that people live in fear because of political unrest. I know that that is all far removed from your circumstances, and it's hard to relate to. But can you relate to being overlooked? Can you relate to people dying?
The day that 2 bombs when off in Boston and killed (at last count) 3 people and injured 170, at least 15 bombs when off across major cities in Iraq, killing (at last count) 31 people and injuring 200.
These bombs were mostly car bombs, travelling down major highways during rush hour. People were driving home, going to buy groceries, maybe picking up their kids from daycare, and that's the last thing they'll ever remember.
Yes, a marathon finish line is an awful place to die. Yes, it was conniving and cruel. Yes, we should shed tears. But maybe #prayforiraq should be trending on Twitter. Maybe we should be Instagramming pictures of the children of these Iraqis. Maybe we should have heard something about it. We'll never know their names, their ages, their stories. We will never hear anything about them, but we will soon hear countless heartwarming and heart wrenching stories from Boston.
What's the difference, I ask you? Their skin is a different colour? We don't know how to pronounce their names? They live halfway across the world? They are people too, killed by bombs too, unexpectedly. They were innocents, going about their day. They had families and jobs. They had hope, happiness, love and life.
What's the difference?