when we got to the convention center, it was no place to be. there were more dead people. there were children passed out in their mommy’s arms from dehydration and heat. there were sounds of sobbing angry faces as rows of national guard troops drove past us. then they stopped. they held rifles in their hands high and had stressed out looks on their faces. i took the littlest girl’s hand and approached a military man, a sergeant. he had orders to wait there and that was all. he couldn’t say if food or water was coming. he did not know. what he did not tell me is what i know now; they were sent to keep a riot from happening, not to move anybody, not to give water or medical attention, but to wait and keep a riot from happening. i curse all the men and women who were complicit in allowing new orleans to sit and wait and die. i curse george bush. i curse michael chertoff. i curse michael brown. your inaction caused the death of trusting, hurting american souls. you could not be bothered. i curse you to be bothered forever, never given rest, feeling let down and betrayed. i curse you to feel unloved. i curse you to be neglected and forgotten.