Sometimes, I just feel the suffering. I think about Libya and all the kids I know who live under a bridge.
My contemplative practices and community work seem so ridiculously fragile in the face of your loss and rage, whoever you are.
I wish we could skip to the cessation of pain and the road to something better. But real change starts with our real feelings.
What squirms against violence is already somehow awake and free, but we still cry.
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