1 min readApr 24, 2020
Hold Out For Love
We live on the border of sorrow. Set up our camp with what we arrived with and hope it’s enough. If we’re lucky, we hold out for Love. All of us, refugees, in need of compassion. All of us, bewildered.
When help arrives, if ever, who decides who needs it first? The old, who birthed the new, are suddenly expendable. The rich are applauded and the poor are punished. Joy is a bright bird in a blossoming tree, which Power decimates, for profit.
LBM 4/24/2020
