valued are the undocumented
blessed are those who flee their homes in search of safety; those who long for the communities they’ve lost
loved are the children, and mothers, and fathers, and grandparents who mourn because they have been torn apart
cherished are those who walk across land borders in Mexico, or sit in overcrowded boats on the Mediterranean, or wait in camps because no country will welcome them.
What kind of brave must they be… to face the unthinkable decisions: to determine that the terror of the unknown is better than the terror they know.
And how cowardly must I be… to believe I am somehow more entitled to this land I stand on, this safety I live in, because I was born in it.
This is the week I turned off the radio; I couldn’t listen. I wanted all the information and none of it. I wanted to speak, but have been without words. Instead all I could think is: this is the week we remember we are all human.
I’ve been reading the beatitudes, and a colleague sent me a beautiful video. And those inspired the above words.