Untitled.

Hic locus est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae.

"Let conversation cease. Let laughter flee. This is the place where death delights to help the living."

One would think martyrs would have a say in their actions, a nod, a wince, a shrug-- something. But it's not so. These things are in the hands of others, and in the Hand that holds. That would be a mystery to me.

The case of theodicy leaves me at the doorstep. I doff my hat, and I remain silent. If the ummah loves death more than we love life, then let them all die if they so choose; but why drag us into their cowardly designs? Such is the Mystery. Muslim cowardice demands that they demand that we correct them for their own sakes. Why should we? This is the place that beckons us, and calls us to our duty to do what we would not choose. I find no comfort in it. Somewhere there might lie some answer to these mysteries. Somewhere there might be some shrouded smile to greet us when. Maybe, when all is said and done and this is forgotten generations later, maybe then we'll see some plan unveiled and we'll gasp at the beauty of it all. Maybe there will be weeping and joy and gladness at the deed done for the Living. Call me, please, when that day arrives.
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Iraqi insurgents use eight-year-old girl as suicide bomber

Daily Mail 14 May 2008

An eight-year-old girl was strapped with remote-controlled explosives and used as a human bomb by Iraqi insurgents in a blast that killed an Iraqi commander earlier today.

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Photo from Opacity. Pilgrim State Hospital, Brentwood, New York.