The image I hold

The image I hold from the past two days is of the destroyed family compound that was obviously once beautiful, and the destruction including the baby carriage in the front. Then I looked across the street at the beautiful house standing, and a little girl called out to me in friendship. I felt rage, sorrow, despair when thinking of the family and all that they lost. I felt hope thinking about the little girl in the beautiful house, but I worry as well. When would it be their turn. 

This is just too hard and too hopeless.