Susan LaffertyIn the realm of heart and soul,
You ask for all.
Hands open,
I give the
fragmented,
flawed,
incomplete all
that I know.
You receive.
Tenderly. Welcoming
broken parts,
scattered pieces
of a repentant,
believing
heart.
You save the sin-sick soul.
This past week, I sit numb. Shaken. Shocked by sheer brutality.
And cry out for the ones who can’t breathe.
Weep for those with necks slammed against asphalt under the knee of racism. Relentless, insidious racism. Again and again.
The snake slithers. Just beneath the surface of society. Often hidden in the dark. Feeding pride and arrogance. Fear. Prejudice.
Injustice.
The sand was slippery. Soft. Shifting as we plunged through it to our tents by the river.
Not just any river. The brilliant blue-green water rushing by this camp was the Ganga, otherwise known as the Ganges. Worshiped by millions of Hindus.
