I am challenged today
by the struggle to make room
for the man who died by the knee
and by the one whose knee caused his death.
I am challenged today
by the beauty of the protests, the signs of lament,
the cries of long, long years
and by broken glass and tear gas and wounded innocents.
I am challenged today
by months of isolation and fear,
distancing and lack of connection
and by disregard for the vulnerable who must
sit by and watch the beaches fill and the streets come alive.
I am challenged today
by the voices that share the events of this world,
the dualistic me-vs-them in each scenario
and by the ones who kneel in quiet contemplation,
praying for peace and unity and change.
I am challenged today
by the noise, the clatter, the bumps
and bruises
and by the sound of birds and the gentle sway of the
trees as they continue to grow despite it all.
I am challenged today
by the attempt to make room
for both the loud and the soft,
the thump and the gentle touch
and that to feel my heart still, I must
also feel the agony of discontent.