Why are the children if not hurting themselves, so busy hurting others?
I know hurt in ways you cannot fathom, And I rise up daily with a but a single quest: Banish the hurt, expel the hurters, And practice the one true faith: Kindness and Grace.
Sometimes the madness I read, too much, too much, And I walk away and store my poems in another place.
But I am reminded, There is no such thing as too kind, So I wander back, Chagrined and Chastened, Hoping one among you Will help to raise up Me.