Katyn 2

It's strange to see the country we've become close to thrust suddenly into the headlines of world news. If only it were for something good. But Poland is quiet, solemn, and still shocked from the tragedy that has been nicknamed "Katyn 2."

On Saturday morning, our dear roommate Pawel told me with teary eyes that the President's plane had crashed. I thought for a few short seconds that I was misunderstanding (as happens sometimes with his broken English). When I learned it was in the forests of Katyn, the excruciating irony literally made my heart ache, like some sick joke. It's haunting. Not only has Poland lost a leader, but a large number of its military and political officials, and intellectual elite. And not only were their lives snuffed out in an instant, but in the place of the worst atrocity for the Polish people in recent history. The plane had been carrying dignitaries to the commemoration ceremony for the 70th anniversary of Katyn, the massacre of more than 20,000 Polish officers and intellectuals by the Soviet secret police during World War II. An incident which put a deep scar on Polish-Russian relations, one that the countries and still working to heal.

Coincidentally, Danny and I had just watched the 2007 Andrzej Wajda film "Katyn" not even a week ago (Oscar-nominated and well worth watching). The movie had been in my head for days before the crash, having left disturbing images in my mind. It opens with a brilliantly telling scene set at the beginning of the war. Polish families are fleeing, belongings in hand. They reach a bridge, and see more people coming toward them, running from the other direction. One side yells "the Germans," while the other yells "the Russians!" The protagonist much pick her poison. And that is the sum of history for this nation.

It's practically unthinkable that Poland could lose so many beloved, socially important people on two occasions in practically the same exact spot. The plane carried several family members and children of victims of the Katyn massacre. A bizarre, eerie and profoundly sad fate.

I am not a news photographer, and have very little desire to be. But I thought it important to document the grief. I tried to do it in a way that was different, and hopefully more subtly emotive than the generic crowd-and-candle pictures that have flooded the news wires.