Where to find hope or inspiration,
when cruelty and lawlessness,
racism and fascism,
things we never dreamed could be this bad
in North America,
assault us every day
on our tv screens?
It is in
a line of monks
walking across America,
spreading compassion,
exemplifying peace.
Showing us how.
It is in humanity rising
in response to brutality,
neighbours turning out
to support neighbours.
Love trumping darkness,
even if it takes a while.
Because this is not who we are.
It is in intentional writing,
our words, like the monks' footsteps,
travelling across the page or screen,
our fingers tapping solidarity,
our gaze as loving and serene
as Aloka's,
looking out at a world gone mad,
yet clinging to the peacefulness
within,
so the dark and toxic ones
don't win.
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