Only the Beautiful

by Susan Meissner

A book is always in many places at once. That is its singular wonder. A book takes one voice speaking and makes it many. A book can shine far brighter and longer than I ever could on my own. As I press this second letter to my chest, I hear the echo of Johannes Maier saying, “Power like that can’t be stopped,” and my own voice saying back to him, “Of course it can.” It can. It is stopped. All the time. Not with a magic wand or hopeful thoughts or wishful thinking or mere words, but with courage and resolve and the refusal to allow those without voices to remain unheard.

This is what makes us sublimely human, isn’t it? Not unsullied genetic perfection, but when we stubbornly love and honor one another. Just the way we are.

How we treat one another is what we are still able to do something about.