The sound of sorrow . . .
I find myself listening
intently. Everywhere
I look, I see hidden
sorrow.
Indeed, we are in a
tough space in time now.
Unemployment, poverty,
arson, anger, retaliation.
We are so proud of our
recycle, and yet we put
thousands and thousands
of water bottles in the
ground.
Alas, I have no answers,
only questions. I don't
know where to start or
even where to end.
Perhaps if each of us
were to tend our own
gardens, family and
friends . . .
Blessed be.
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