Life is so, so hard. Tragic. Beautiful, horrific, oppressive, overwhelming. Intrinsically unfair. Infuriating.
It doesn’t fit neatly into boxes with labels. A good man with a family is ravaged by cancer and ultimately loses the battle, aged 44. Still others are seemingly immortal, 99, still going, until just recently fighting for folks who have nothing – that impossible battle – now in hospice with his wife of 77 years. There is no rhythm to it. Certainly no karmic justice coming to even things up.
And none of that even touches the grand scale suffering that is a given every day somewhere in the world.
I can hear a little voice petulantly resisting bedtime, so intent is its owner on squeezing every second out of the day. How does this sweet vignette exist among the atrocities of today?
No comments:
Post a Comment