Anger

When I read Palestinian history, there is so much (too much?) to absorb; the amount of suffering and the fact that people allowed this to happen, so the predominant feeling I have is to be numbly sad.  There are statistics and dates but no individual people jump out who have died, who have lost something precious to them, whether a home, a loved one, or a way of life.  When it happens today and they attack and kill children and the elderly, the numbness is no longer possible, and above the sadness rises an anger that eclipses it.  An anger that is my natural reaction to attacks on the especially defenseless.  An anger that comes from love and my desire for justice.  An anger that I do not know how to turn into something useful, which only makes me angrier.  It is an anger I cannot control.  An anger that would never let me hesitate to give my life for these people, if only my life would save them.