Another. Another new morning shadowed by an umbrella of terror...

Another. Another new morning shadowed by an umbrella of terror and loss and violence and tears. How many more? What do we do when we feel ourselves running out of words for what keeps happening? I do not know this, but I think we must simply not run out. When we stop speaking out for the need for love and grace in the face of hatred and terror, the terror wins, the hatred can spread, watered by our numb apathy and desensitized aching fear. There is one solution to all this, there has always been one, and it is love. Love is our weapon and love is our shield, and now, more than ever, we need to give it away, freely and unafraid. I don’t know what else to do, save this, so I will love, and I will not run out of words, no matter how many more mornings I wake, shadowed and heartbroken, ashamed of what we are doing to one another. I am sorry, for all this.

_______