We do not admire their president.We know why the White House is white.We do not find their children irresistible;We do not agree they should inherit the earth.

We will never regret having been born in this cruel time for we recognize it for what it is: the time of fullness of heart.

When I no longer have your heartI will not request your bodyyour presenceor even your polite conversation.I will go away to a far countryseparated from you by the sea— on which I cannot walk —and refrain even from sendinglettersdescribing my pain.

Now we are beginning to askthe crucial question.If it is natural to be blackand red or brown or yellowand if it is beautiful to resistoppressionand if it is gorgeous to be of colorand walking around free,then where does the problemlie?Who are these peoplethat kill our children in the night?

It does not matter to me: wherever you are grieving whether Paris, Damascus, Jerusalem, Bamako,Mexico or Beirut or New York City my heart, too, is bruised and dragging.There used to be such a thingas melodramawhen feelings could bemade up, but now there is bare painand sorrow,a sense of endlessly missedopportunitiesto smile and embrace"The other.

I am beginning to comprehendthe mysteryof the gift of suffering.It is true as somehave saidthat it is a cruciblein which the gold of one’s spiritis renderedand shines.

But cheer up. Who could have imaginedWhat the world is really likeWhen we were children?We’re old now, but in spite of all we learned,So much of it dreadful and scary, evenPetrifying,We gave LifeOur best shot.Perfection will haveTo wait for the next incarnation.And I mean of the world, not just us.

The world risingcan put an endto anything:the murder of childrenwhaleselephantsoceans.Get up. Roll overon that partof youthat will notwelcomerecognizeencourageor even seeour rise.A compassionate roll:we must be donewith crueltyespecially to ourselves,to start againbeaming like the sun;fresh.But a roll that showswe’ve reached the endof polite movesto repair and re-create the Earth,and will press hardon any parts of useven those we have loved,that insiston remainingobliviousandasleep.

Repelled by crueltylet us ban itfrom our hearts.