This sort of human tragedy—violence, cruelty—feels different from the grief of loss. Grief, as tangled as it is, can be more straightforward. You loved them, and they died. No, that isn’t quite the truth. Loss is never direct; it never finds a worn path. No matter how, or why. It throws one into the wilds with no path at all. Only… How to write this out? There are some abuses that feel tangled, sticky, every dim feeling invading the peace of one’s heart. Cruelty played out over years, and a feeling of desolation and ash in its wake. Human brutality carries its own sting.
