retribution

So this morning it was harder than usual for me to get up. I listened to an alarm clock go off five times and although I was wide awake, I just could not bring myself to get out of the bed. I knew what we were doing today, and I had to ask myself was I really up to the task? The ride over the bridge was strangely quiet. I think all of us were preparing ourselves for what might possibly be our most trying day yet--cleaning out drain pipes right in the heart of the lower 9th ward. We were here two days ago, for about an hour, but today we'd be here all day. I've wrestled with thought of spending an entire day here since we came two days ago. There's an uneasy feeling in the lower 9th. There are at least 1,600 restless souls wondering New Orleans, all spirits of those who were robbed of their lives right here in the neighborhood that I'm typing this from. How is the city going to reconcile that? There are homes in this city that are absolutely breath taking, yet here on the Deslonde Block it looks like the hurricane was yesterday. Emotions here run high as we work hand in hand with volunteers from across the nation. But at the end of the day, the spirits here are restless, and there is still retribution to be payed.