Marla Ruzicka

When I look at Marla Ruzicka's face, I am reminded of all the young people I knew when I was an adviser at a university. Only this young beauty was so different. A 28 year old who trusted her sensibilities and did not forfeit her dreams of civility, for anything, not even her own precious life.
When I look at Marla Ruzicka's face I am struck by its youth. How many other people I know her age who are downing beers or shots, at this moment and would have never considered taking on the world in such a bold and magnificent manner.
When I look at Marla Ruzicka's face, I see my pitiful America in her eyes. I see the news, the tv cameras, the talking heads, the blogs, the proclamations, the recriminations. I see the patriot. I see the dreamer. I see the care-giver. I see the daughter, the sister, the lover. I see the promise. I see it broken.
When I look at Marla Ruzicka's face, I cry for everything that is wrong, that's always been wrong, that's never been right. The permanence of injustice is her face. Her face.