News from Just Over the Memorial Day Weekend

I ache for all the suffering and death
for it is my suffering and death.
It is as if my being is being chipped
away. How long before the last
clod of my body goes down to the earth
from which it came?
I am diminished.
I ache.
A man is attacked by a shark and dies
just as he retires from work.
I hear his wife scream. I shudder.
I ache.
Men and women die on a chaotic,
crowded Mt. Everest in pursuit of
a personal challenge and others walk
over their bodies to get to safety.
I shake my head.
I ache.
Men, women and children are maimed
and die at the hands of child soldiers
wielding machetes while vicious adults
tell them what to do.
I shed a tear.
I ache.
Men, women and children die in third
world countries from bombs from
first world countries.
I repent.
I ache.
U.S. soldiers (boys and girls) die in
U.S. protracted, unnecessary, foolish
wars endorsed by old, mostly white,
men and women in Washington
who never served in the military.
I am ashamed.
I ache.
Children die in custody at the southern
border of the United States.
I am angry.
I ache.
Men, women and children die in
small “Mayberry” towns from
opioid overdoses.
I ache.
People die in urban areas from
gun violence.
I ache.
People of color lost their lives
at the hands and guns of frightened
I ask for forgiveness.
I ache.
I think of the people whose lives
homes and property have been
destroyed by relentless flooding.
I ache.
I think of a friend, a college buddy
who died leaving a family to go
on and on without him.
I ache.
People died in traffic accidents
over the long, celebratory weekend.
I’m horrified at the senseless carnage.
I ache.
A young woman is rescued after two
weeks wandering, lost in the
dense forests of Maui. She will live.
I rejoice and give thanks.
I am rejuvenated.
And that was just over a long weekend.
There is more, so much more, endless more,
but I am glad just to be able
to put one small clod back in place.

2 thoughts on “News from Just Over the Memorial Day Weekend

  1. A nod (or more like a bow) to the noble weaver of words. Is it OK to be more and more content with letting you speak for me?

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