If Our Hearts Harden

Halfway through the day I sit in pajamas with a lead heavy heart.
I wonder if a hike with my camera (my escape, my joy) will help.
But the leaves are all gone.
The landscape is as gray and sad as I am.
What beauty can I capture today while I’m hollow and empty?
I glance at the news with a dizzy aching head.
Then I read splendid, gracious responses by generous
Souls hoping for nothing more than for love to prevail
In our chaotic world where, again, hate has boiled over
Washing away innocent lives in rhythmic waves
Never ending in their cataclysmic destruction.
Unfortunately, sorrowfully, we are experienced mourners.
We have learned that the black ache of
Stunned horror and disbelief will fade
Allowing peeks of light to infiltrate and eventually brighten.
But permanent scars linger.
Can a repeatedly broken heart escape
The impulse for self-preservation?
If our hearts harden, we’ll be lost.

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