11/6/2024: A colleague shared this. I thought it was beautiful. I'm not quite there yet; I'm still resting before I get to the grieving—giving myself the space to disconnect from the news and analysis of what went wrong, before I can mourn the loss of what might have been, before I can join in and help to formulate a plan of resistance. But the poem resonates for me. I hope it will for you as well. We will stand together. Together, we will not let hate win.

Because

by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

So I can’t save the world—

can’t save even myself,

can’t wrap my arms around

every frightened child, can’t

foster peace among nations,

can’t bring love to all who

feel unlovable.

So I practice opening my heart

right here in this room and being gentle

with my insufficiency. I practice

walking down the street heart first.

And if it is insufficient to share love,

I will practice loving anyway.

I want to converse about truth,

about trust. I want to invite compassion

into every interaction.

One willing heart can’t stop a war.

One willing heart can’t feed all the hungry.

And sometimes, daunted by a task too big,

I tell myself what’s the use of trying?

But today, the invitation is clear:

to be ridiculously courageous in love.

To open the heart like a lilac in May,

knowing freeze is possible

and opening anyway.

To take love seriously.

To give love wildly.

To race up to the world

as if I were a puppy,

adoring and unjaded,

stumbling on my own exuberance.

To feel the shock of indifference,

of anger, of cruelty, of fear,

and stay open. To love as if it matters,

as if the world depends on it.

from The Unfolding (Wildhouse Publishing, 2024)