My heart goes out to everyone with family, friends or loved ones in or near conflict zones. I hope for their safety and peace. In times like these, words can feel both necessary and inadequate — it’s easy to worry about saying the wrong thing while many around us may be scared, sad or grieving. Others may feel a different mix of emotions, or simply numb.
So, I offer these words from poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer titled Belonging:
And if it’s true we are alone,
we are alone together,
the way blades of grass
are alone, but exist as a field.
Sometimes I feel it,
the green fuse that ignites us,
the wild thrum that unites us,
an inner hum that reminds us
of our shared humanity.
Just as thirty-five trillion
red blood cells join in one body
to become one blood.
Just as one hundred thirty-six thousand
notes make up one symphony.
Alone as we are, our small voices
weave into the one big conversation.
Our actions are essential
to the one infinite story of what it is
to be alive. When we feel alone,
we belong to the grand communion
of those who sometimes feel alone—
we are the dust, the dust that hopes,
a rising of dust, a thrill of dust,
the dust that dances in the light
with all other dust, the dust
that makes the world.
Wherever we may find ourselves on the spectrum of emotions, may we move forward with compassion for one another and with concern for those in harm’s way. As we continue our work of learning and caring for each other, let us remember that even small acts of empathy help strengthen our community: “Alone as we are (or may appear to be), our small voices weave into the one big conversation.”