Ukraine

Tell me please as I haven’t the wisdom. Which of Christ’s brothers should die so I may not be considered a coward? Which of His sister’s must I make widow, and which of His children fatherless? My heart is overwhelmed. Hard salt tears are my prayer. Devils rejoice as I stammer out hopes, and wishes, and shouts to the sky, my sadness to the only One with love enough to soften hearts from hate and its ugly child, War. Tired, dry, and struggling for air while the TV tells me I must choose. Still, I cannot and will not. Such things are God’s. Into your abyss of love O God, I throw myself. In seeing your face I will rest.

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