To the middle left of this photo is a wooden bench in the shade of three trees. It calls to me. It asks me to rest. To rest from what I know not. There has long been a weariness in my bones. They ache, and they throb from the endless wars. The exhaustion from a lifetime of carrying an unwilling body along through external forces who see you not as a person, but as a means to an end.
As I watch people of culture protesting, I sense deeply that this is what they feel in ways that I have never experienced. It is a challenging of a system that doesn’t work for any of us, except the few who hold the power and the money.
In what appears to be utter chaos is the howling of centuries of agony and suffering. Shall we look away? Shall we retreat to our place of denial? If you feel weary, rest; and when you are ready, you can be a part of paving new tomorrow.
