meditation
And blesséd are you
Embracing this blue marble
And held in return
Not every action will serve. Not every protest will move the needle. Some of us will send money. Some of us will walk empty through our days, heartbroken. Some of us only know rage. Some don’t know how to say that we were wrong, but all of us are here now. In a foreign place where we’ve never stood before, looking at each other, perhaps for the first time, we are here. Recognizing our neighbors. Watching those who run to the battle, who carry water, whose compass has always pointed to the front lines. Some of us can only watch them go, too weary or scared or ill or jaded or wounded to go with them. And some of us have only just now seen that this is all of our fight.
Blessed are you, too.
While it is yet dark,
Disbelieving miracles
Blesséd are you, too
still drawing back the curtains
prayerful that the sun will rise.
